It's All Coming Back
by myshadowspirit
Summary: Eleven years after being on the Total Drama TV show, Courtney has the perfect life. Duncan does not.
1. Thank You

AN: It's because Total Drama was on Netflix, okay?

Chapter 1

Thank You

_What. The. Actual. Fuck._

What she couldn't stand the most, was that her body hadn't known how to respond. It had taken a whole two minutes for her brain to even think that thought, and still her face had yet to do anything. There was just no reaction to be done. Her perfect world, the one that she spent _eleven fucking years_ working into her whole life's purpose, could not, ever, possibly do this to her.

Oh but it could. Perhaps this was karma. It was finally catching up to her.

Her mind was still misfiring, unable to give her any signals on what to do next. With each passing second, she was coming closer and closer to very well losing her mind.

She pulled her eyes away, allowing them to drop down to the schedule that her secretary had so thoughtfully printed out for her. Printed only so she didn't have to check her own phone or computer for the potential client's name. She had so many today, she couldn't possibly remember them all. They were all printed so that she could be prepared. Oh, she was not prepared.

As she read the name, her eyes again quickly pulled up to look at the face. Sure, she had glanced at the name previously before this moment, but it wasn't a too uncommon name to make her stop and think. Perhaps it was just someone with the same-NOPE, her brain corrected, as her eyes again recognized the face right in front of her.

It couldn't be. But it was. It was _him_.

He had no problem what's so ever. In fact, he had a very easy grin snaked around his evil face, his cold blue eyes knowing exactly what he was doing to her. She had to stop him. She had to put her hands around his neck and squeeze, until those eyes popped out of his obnoxious head.

He hadn't changed all that much. He still had the same stupid tuft of hair growing out of his chin. He still had his annoying green fohawk and stupid piercings. You would think even _he_ would grow out of it, with all the time that had gone by, but-wait, there _were _changes. He simply just had more piercings! And more tattoos.

She made a small scoffing noise, an excuse to have her roll her eyes away. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to remember what was there before, or notice what was new. She was wasting time!

She had to keep moving forward. She had to remember her therapy. Don't get caught up in the small details. In the long story of her own life, he was an insignificant chapter that ended long ago. Knowing him, this was probably some sort of joke. He somehow managed to wiggle himself into her schedule. How?! She was firing her secretary.

Finally getting down to business she was able to use her voice. "What do _you_ want?" It came out harsh, but that was no problem. It was _Duncan _after all.

"I need a lawyer," he said simply, but it was his voice that almost made her fall apart. A sudden wave of memories and nostalgia tore through her, and it took a lot more from her to hold down her bile as it threatened to escape the internal attack.

She did a decent job. She somehow transferred the energy into a bitter laugh, keeping her face collected and cool. "You can't afford me," she said, sitting back down at her desk. She didn't even remember standing. Oh, that's right, she was going to shake her client's hand before she knew who he was. She started reorganizing the already organized desk to look busy.

"So quick to judge, Princess," he clicked his tongue. She refrained from flinching at the old pet name. "I got the cash."

"And I don't accept _illegal _money either."

She heard him shift his weight on her leather chair. How dare he? How dare he come into _her_ office, the one with the _window_, and contaminate the atmosphere?! She could even smell his cigarette smoke all the way from where she sat.

"Should have I brought my T4s? I do have a job. I even pay taxes and everything."

She made a face of disgust at him, finding that hard to believe. "Doing what?"

"Mechanic."

She gave a haughty laugh, noticing his ripped jeans and dirty T-shirt. Really, how did he get in here? "And you think you can afford-"

"Before you get all high and mighty on me, based on your LinkedIn profile here," Duncan cut off, scrolling through his phone, "you've only been graduated for... two months now."

"Do you know where you are?!" She couldn't quite keep the hysteria out of her voice.

Duncan stared back at her, assuming that was a rhetorical question.

"Borden Ladner Gervais in _Vancouver!_" As far as she had known, Duncan had been living in Ontario on the other side of the country. Or at least, that was the last she had seen him. She should have been safe here. She came here to be safe. She grabbed her phone, signing into her LinkedIn profiled to see for herself, making some edits so the dates showing her experience weren't so obvious. "Do you know how _hard_ it is to land a position right after law school?" she tapped angrily on her phone. "_Especially _in Borden Ladner Gervais after mentoring here? I was an exception. They usually force you to move elsewhere. I've won dozens of cases while I was still interning. I have a window!" she waved her arm frantically over to the window looking out into the water. Duncan didn't seem impressed at all. "I worked with Alan Dershowitz. I _met _Wichai Thongtang in Thailand."

"Who the fuck is that?" Duncan dug a finger into his ear.

"His net worth is 1.1 billion." Of course Duncan wouldn't know who _Wichai Thongtang_ was. She needed to get him out of her office.

"And so... being in this dude's presence for like a second, is going to make your net worth... what?"

She let out a short cry in annoyance before sitting back down. Again, she must have gotten up during her rant. "That's not the point! The point is that I don't have time for you." One end of his mouth twitched upward. She wasn't sure if it was from him being nervous or just to annoy her. As much as she wanted to throw him out the window (she wasn't sure if she could even open it yet) her schooling wasn't allowing her. She had to do _something_ for him, if for only because he was on her stupid schedule and she never liked to leave things unfinished.

The annoying thought that Duncan and her had always felt unfinished nagged at her. "But," she grabbed a pen and starting going through her business card display, now refocusing her thoughts. She wasn't going to let Duncan get the best of her. If this really was a chance meeting, then she couldn't let him win. "I can refer you to one of the 700 other lawyers in our establishment, who will be happy to work with you." She took a calming breath. This wasn't the end of the world. _Just stay professional. Serve the people. That's your job, Courtney. Serve... _"What service are you looking for?" she sighed.

"Service?" God, she hated the way that sounding out of his mouth. Dirty, and sensual at the same time.

"Let me guess, _criminal _law?"

"Well, uh."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Of course it is! I swear to God, Duncan, I really don't know how you're still alive. As if for one second, you could actually keep yourself from getting into trouble!"

"Hey! What does it matter? I'm innocent!"

"Ha!" she found the name she was looking for. Lou Pierce. He was actually a close professor of her's at one time. He was the best criminal defense attorney she knew. If anyone could keep Duncan out of jail or prison, it was him.

"Should be easy for ya, if I'm innocent."

"Duncan, I'm not even a criminal lawyer. If you actually _read_ my LinkedIn account you would see that I am in medical."

"Huh," Duncan grunted, chin in hand and actually looking somewhat interested. "I never thought you'd go that route."

"Well, I would have preferred corporate, but if I wanted to stay local I had to take what I could get. Besides, there are tons of opportunities in that direction, and though it may be difficult, I am confident that I can switch professions if I think needed. I want to have a wide background on my resume for when I eventually run for Prime Minister."

Duncan looked bored again. He was still sitting in her chair.

"Here," she leaned forward to hand him over the card with the referral. "Call him. I'll put a word in for you so that he finds time to fit you in his schedule." She made sure, as Duncan reached over to take the card, not to let their fingers touch. She had to put some effort into it since Duncan had made for the reach somewhat clumsily, and the card made a loud noise as it bent and scraped from her fingernail in her haste to hand it over.

She sat back, watching Duncan stare at the card in his hand. "Well, our business is done now," she stated when he still made no move to get up. He gazed at her, making her uncomfortable as she couldn't think of a way to not look back. She was starting to notice other differences now. He was older. The skin on his face seemed tighter around his eyes. There was more hair on his chin then she remembered.

"Courtney." His voice had been low, but sounded unnecessary loud after the quiet that followed. The ticking of a nearby clock and her blood pounding in her ears were the only noise. She didn't like the way that he was staring at her, probably noticing all of her changes as well. She saw his gaze drop to her left hand, where she wore a rather expensive engagement ring. She quickly covered her hand, before letting both of them fall behind her desk.

"Thanks," he finally said, before pushing himself to leave.

Courtney stood up too, used to the habit of shaking her client's hand and walking them to the door. She still didn't want to touch Duncan though so she just stood there. She made a nervous smile and waved towards the door. Duncan gradually turned around and started heading out. He was moving unnaturally slow, and Courtney had to refrain from murdering him with her pen. Why couldn't he walk like a normal adult?!

Soon he was finally out the door, the wood shutting quietly behind him, and Courtney immediately pulled open her bottom desk drawer for Febreze and Lysol wipes. She heavily sprayed the air around the chair, though it only partially masked the cigarette smell. She then began to impulsively wipe down the leather chair with the wipes like a crazy person. She was sure that he was carrying a billion germs, most likely some with contagious diseases.

She was appalled when she pulled the moist cloth away to see a rusty red color. Seriously? He couldn't even change his clothes before coming into her firm?! She pulled out some fresh wipes before more thoroughly cleaning the seat of the chair. She at first assumed it was some sort of oil or other fluid automobile related as he did say he was a mechanic, but something made her pause at the light pink color she was now picking up. After staring at it for a few moments she threw the wipes into the trash. She paged her secretary that she was done for the day. Since Duncan's meeting was so short, she was going to take the extra free time to fire her secretary, but she could do that tomorrow.

She quickly left her office with her purse in hand, looking around to see if she could still see Duncan. He had been moving rather lethargic. When she didn't seem him around, she told herself she was relieved. It wasn't any of her business.

It took her some time to get down the elevator and out the door of the nearly twenty story building. The weather was finally starting to get warm outside. The sun was pleasant and there was a lot of people out and about enjoying the end of the day. She crossed the street on her way towards the garage when she did spot his green haired head sitting near the bus stop.

She sighed, debating in confronting him or just continuing her way home. She would be a few minutes early at this rate. Maybe she could finally pull out those bath salts she had been wanting to use.

She was more annoyed with herself than anything as she felt her black pumps take her over to the man smoking on the bench.

He looked up at the sound of her heels and she felt a stab of guilt with how hopeful his expression was. That quickly faded as he flashed his teeth at her. "Hey, Princess! Knew you couldn't stay away!"

She un-shouldered her purse, gathering the leather strap before whipping it over Duncan's right thigh.

"Holy shit tits!" he cried out, doubling over in pain and holding his leg.

"You're hurt," she stated.

"What are you talking about," he growled, grinding his teeth and trying to hold back the obvious pain he was in. "You whip that thing like Indiana Jones. It's going to startle some people."

"What is that!?" she pointed. He was trying to hide the deep red that was now seeping through his jeans with his hands. "You're bleeding!"

"Now that you've reopened the wound..." he grumbled.

"You bled on my office chair! Do you know how expensive that chair is? It's full-grain leather!" She took out her cell phone. "You're going to the hospital."

Duncan laughed. "No, I'm not sweetheart."

"_Yes, _ you are!"

"_No_ I'm not," Duncan said much more darkly. He sat on the bench with both his arms on the backrest, daring her to try to make him move.

She finished calling for her car on the app on her phone and carefully packed the device back into her purse. "Of course you are," she said. As if it was even a question. "Did you drive here?"

The look Duncan gave her confirmed that he didn't. He was sitting at the bus stop after all.

"You can't smoke that here."

Duncan sighed before putting the cigarette out on the bottom of his left sneaker.

"I'll take you to the hospital."

"What makes you think that I'm going to let you take me to the hospital? And for what reason? A little cut on my leg? Just admit that you want to spend time with me." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Courtney ignored him. "How long has that wound been bleeding? It's probably infected!" That was when Courtney's car made in to their side of the street.

Duncan stopped paying attention to Courtney once he noticed the car, his eyes widening as the black Tesla parked its self cleanly in front of them. "That's your car?"

"Yes, of course." She pushed the button to open the passenger door. "Hold on. I need to put something down before you get in. I don't want you to keep bleeding on all my leather." She pulled a blanket from her trunk, before returning to the passenger seat. With one knee on the seat, she wedge a corner of the blanket underneath the headrest, missing that Duncan was shamelessly watching the way her tight, gray skirt was clinging to her ass.

She climbed out of the car, straightening the outfit, only now realizing it was riding up. She gave Duncan a quick glare, wondering if he noticed. "Okay, get in."

"This is all real sweet of you babe, but I'm going to have to decline your offer."

"_What?!" _she shrieked. Duncan winced, looking around to see if they were attracting attention.

"I'm pretty sure you heard me the first three times I said no."

"I'm trying to help you!"

"And I appreciate it!"

"Get in the car! You're doing this on purpose!"

Duncan laughed. "What am I doing on purpose?"

He was refusing her help to annoy her, obviously. Courtney could never stand anyone telling her no for whatever reason. She pulled out a can of bear spray from her purse. "GET IN THE CAR!"

"What the fuck is that?!" She pointed the can closer to his face. "Is that fucking bear spray? Why do you even _have_ that!?"

"Get in the car right now, or I'll spray you and claim physical assault!"

"Courtney, we're in public!"

"I'll do it!" her voice was getting louder so Duncan pushed himself off the bench and limped over to the car, remembering why he left her crazy ass in the first place.

"I'm being kidnapped!" he shouted in a halfhearted attempt to the people walking down the street, but no one really seemed to care.

Courtney shut his door after he sat down, before moving over to the driver's side and settling herself in. Duncan watched the doors automatically lock.

"You can't be serious," Duncan stated. Courtney ignored him as she searched for the closest hospital on the large screen of her dashboard. "I'm not going." Duncan shook his head. "You can go ahead and spray me with bear spray, but I'm still not going inside."

"Don't be such a baby, Duncan." The car pulled itself from the curb. "You're a full grown man."

"I didn't really want to say anything, but I have a warrant after me, " Duncan hastily whispered, as if anyone else could hear them inside the car. "I didn't want to expose myself until I had a _lawyer,_ and not one of those random ones they stick you with just because you don't have one! I kinda need a good one."

She frowned at him. "What the hell did you do?"

"Are you going to be my lawyer?"

"No!"

"Then I have the right to remain silent!"

"Duncan, I already told you I'm not even a criminal lawyer. Why the hell did you seek me out?!"

Duncan sighed, turning his gaze to the window. He didn't answer right away, jaw jutted out and Courtney was about to throw him out of the car in her annoyance. "I don't get along with most lawyers, okay?" he finally said.

"_WE'VE _ NEVER GOTTEN ALONG!"

"Oh, don't say that Princess!" Duncan was staring at her lazily now, head resting on the headrest. She glared at it as it hadn't been covered with the blanket and he was probably now getting hair gel on it. "We got history, babe."

She laughed. "History? Our history is like a book written about World War III."

"Not all of it," he defended.

She continued her scowl. Since the car was on autopilot she could give him her full attention of her hatred. He had to know how much she hated him. God did she hate this beautiful, sexy, disgusting _ogre_. It hurt to look at him. She had to keep looking, keep hurting, so she would remember. She kept imagining just breaking and attacking him in the car. She may be able to kill him without any witnesses seeing.

Duncan coughed nervously, looking away. "Okay. I'm sorry. But, for old times sake, would you mind _not _taking me to the hospital where I will undoubtedly get arrested?"

She should take him. Turning him in was probably the right thing to do. Whatever he had done, he deserved it. "Why? It should be like going home, shouldn't it?"

Duncan, the _jerk, _has the gall to look hurt. "Seriously? I got locked up for _ten_ years! Now that I'm out there's no way in hell I'm ever going back!"

"Ten years? They gave you the maximum sentence?" she gasp. It wasn't like she tried to keep in contact with Duncan after he got arrested. "Against _Chris Mclean?!_" She let out a breath. "He must have had a decent lawyer..."

"Yeah, like in he had a lawyer and I didn't!"

"Well if your innocent this time, what do you have to worry about?" She asked sarcastically. She turned away from the face he was making. She couldn't believe it. He was making her feel _ guilty!_ "Fine!" she snapped, slapping the dashboard to cancel the destination to the hospital. "Where are you staying?"

"Ha, no where yet..."

"Are you serious?!"

"There's a warrant to arrest me! I wasn't sure where I'd be staying the night! If I turn myself in today, it would have been jail."

"So is that where we're going?"

"I haven't called the lawyer yet."

"Call him right now!"

"Can't we do that in the morning?" Courtney gave him a warning look. "I mean I will do it in the morning. Listen, just drop me off here. It's fine."

Courtney couldn't remember if he was always this pale or not. His skin had a sheen of sweat even in the conditioned car. "But where would you sleep?! And you're bleeding!"

"I'll figure it out."

"_Duncan!_" she clenched her fits. "You're making a whole_ list _of bad choices!" Curse her conscious! He would be dead if she let him. He was going to die. She was going to let him die. "Fuck!" She slammed her palm on "home" on the dashboard. "Stay in the car!" she ordered.

"Thank you," Duncan responded incredulously.

"Oh! This isn't anything you think it is! This isn't some hook up. No funny business! _One _night only, and then you're turning yourself in. Again, call Lou Pierce right now. His schedule is always very busy so you need to get this out of the way if you want to be able to meet with him anytime soon."

"Or... you could just be my lawyer. Save the time."

"_Duncan!"_

"I trust you." She couldn't look at him. The way he said it was a plea. It was too hot in the car. She adjusted the temperature to a chilly 12 degree Celsius. "Well, actually I don't _trust_ you." Duncan corrected, no longer looking at her and giving a quick shiver.. "You're a crazy bitch, but I'm confident that you could win the case."

"_Why!?_" she snapped.

His blue eyes rolled over to look at her. "Because you're a crazy bitch." He grinned. "And didn't you say you wanted to expand your resume?"

"Duncan, a defense attorney needs to have an extensive knowledge of the law-"

"Which you _don't _have?"

"But I specialize in medical practices."

"You specializing doesn't mean you don't know the other stuff, and I know you. You have an impulsive desire to cram you head with useless knowledge, so don't tell me you didn't study criminal law as well. At least a little. I did read your LinkedIn profile."

"I took a few classes," she admitted. She could still feel his eyes on her. She turned the car off automatic so she had something else to do and drive the thing herself. "Okay, a couple semesters, but Lou Pierce is way better than I am. His experience triples mine."

Duncan stretches his arms over his head. "That's fine with me. I don't care about experience. Plus, I'll pay you what he charges and more."

"I don't need your charity."

"It would look good on your resume..."

She laughed. "Because I won one criminal case? What did you even do?"

"I told you I wasn't telling you unless you be my lawyer."

"And why is that?! What could you possibly have done that you don't want to tell me? It must be atrocious but honesty, knowing you, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I already told you that I'm innocent, and the reason why I'm not telling is simply because it's none of your business."

She stared icily at him.

"You look good, by the way."

She stared at the side of his head, waiting for the back handed compliment. It was weird that he was being nice, but it was because he wanted something. "Wish I could say the same of you," she said. He did not look good at all. He had stopped looking at her, but she could see the vein in his neck pulsing slightly, the skin flushed more obvious with how pale his face had become.

He had a bar through his ear that she didn't remember. His ears were also slightly gauged. They weren't before. She could distinctly remember the two silver rings he used to wear in each ear, as they had been her favorite thing to nimble on back when she didn't hate him. Back when she used to think he was sexy. The rings were still there, but they were hardly noticeable with everything else in his ear. She hated gauges.

The car was about at her apartment complex. Once the car was parked, she got out of it and slammed the door annoyed. Having Duncan over was going to throw her whole nightly routine off. She had a guest room, so there was a place to put him. It would be rude to ignore him the whole night though. She should entertain her guest.

Wait, what the hell was she thinking?! Duncan wasn't a guest! He was a charity case. It was good karma, letting him stay. She was helping the less fortunate. As she watched him climb out of the car, she wondered at what cost though. He would probably steal her stuff.

"Hurry up!' she complained. He was moving so slowly.

"Hey, Princess, I'm trying here!" he gritted his teeth as he limped after her.

"Can you walk?" she asked with more concern.

"Is this not walking?"

"You're limping."

"Yes, Captain Obvious. If I'm too slow for you, go on a head. I'll catch up."

She grimaced. She could let him lean his weight on her. No. He'd probably attempt to make a grab at her or something. Pervert.

Not that he had been a huge pervert yet. He still called her stupid pet names. That was disrespectful.

She slowed her pace so he could keep up with her. "Try not to be too obvious when we get inside the lobby."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure thing. Sorry."

"You attract attention already!" She motioned to his image. She only now just realized that both his arms were sprouting tattooed sleeves from underneath his T-shirt. He hadn't had those when she had known him last. He probably got them to cover up that matching tattoo he had gotten for her all those years ago. Not that she cared. She had her's laser removed after all. "Your clothes are dirty," she said instead.

"No they're not!"

"They know me here, okay?" she opened the lobby door. "Don't embarrass me." They walked into the ritzy lobby which had a modern theme, artistic lights bouncing off the shiny walls and checkered floor. A young man sat at the front desk who didn't even look up when they entered.

"This is my cousin." When the lobby man still didn't look up, she cleared her throat and again repeated, "This is my cousin." Once she got confused eye contact from the man, she awkwardly directly Duncan past the desk and through the open glass doors that lead to the elevators. Duncan followed bored.

They went up to her floor, which was thankfully not too much of a commute, but with each step Duncan was taking she was becoming more worried. She could clearly see the darken stain in his jeans.

She quickly unlocked her door with her key card and went in, pulling off her shoes in a rush. "Okay, just um..." she motioned deeper into the apartment for him to enter more fully. She hung up her purse. "Don't sit anywhere." She was surprised that he toed off his sneakers without her telling him to.

"Hey, uh," he motioned to a picture of her and her fiancé on the wall. "You're man's not coming home is he?"

"He doesn't live here," she answered. "He's working late anyway."

She heard Duncan sigh in relief. "Cool."

"I'll get towels."

She went up the stairs quickly. Blood was hard to clean out. Red. She should use dark red towels.

When she came back downstairs, Duncan was in the middle of the living space, staring out the large windows that encompassed the far wall, over looking the water of the bay.

"The bathroom's over here," she motioned with her head. She let him enter first since the space was a little tight. "Ah, you sit on the toilet."

"Um, why?" he asked as he walked over towards the toilet while she rested the towels in the sink.

"I'm not having you get blood on my flooring," she said. She opened the under the sink cabinet for paper towels. "It'll probably stain the gout in the tiles too." She ripped off a few pieces. "So be careful when taking off your pants."

"Yea, yea, I got it. Shoo now."

She stared at him. "You can't do this by yourself!"

He stared at her incredulously, dark eyebrows so far up his forehead they almost touched his hair. "You want me to take off my pants in front of you?"

"Excuse me? Out of necessity! You refused to go to the hospital! You are _not_ making a mess in here! I won't ever be able to get the stains out and will have some explaining to do to the landlord and my fiancé!"

"Uh-huh,"Duncan put his hands on his hips. "I got this, honey." He pulled out a lighter and pocket knife from his jeans and placed it on the small space next to the facet. "Though if you got a bigger knife, that might help. I think mine's too small and that's why the wound reopened. I lost my Damascus knife. I think a fucker stole it."

"Why do you need a knife? I have scissors." Courtney started digging further into the cabinet to find the first aid kit. She found it, placing it over the towel so she could have the strength to open it.

"What? Nah, scissors are too small." Duncan was now sitting on the toilet but he had kept his pants on, breathing heavy as he leaned back onto the tank.

"It's easier to cut the gauze with scissors."

"No. Courtney. Just go away. I got this."

"You're about to faint right there! Then what do I do? Let you die in my bathroom?!"

He ran a hand over his hair messing up his fohawk as if he could erase Courtney's annoying voice out of his head. He made a grab for the pocket knife. "I'm not going to let myself pass out with you in rape mode."

"And what exactly do you think I could possibly do to you?"

"You've invited me to stay at your place for the night, 'boo' conveniently not here, and you've already _ordered _ me to take off my pants!"

"Do you want my help or not?!"

"You gonna be my lawyer?"

"No!"

"Kay." He rolled his eyes, opened his pocket knife and tried to light his lighter. He failed the first time which was unlike him.

"What are you going to do with the knife?!"

He got the flame lit. "Cauterize the wound."

"No you're not!" she grabbed the knife out of his hand much to Duncan's annoyance. "You're just going to burn healthy flesh."

"It's stopped me from bleeding to death before."

"I have first aid training." Duncan mockingly mouthed the words as she spoke them. She smacked him lightly on the face. She wish she hadn't as she could still feel the feeling on her fingers after doing so."Once we stop the bleeding I can stitch it up. Take off your pants."

"How desperate we are," Duncan chuckled.

"This is not a sexual situation!"

"You're wearing stockings."

"WHAT?!" she exclaimed. "How does that have to-"

"You're wearing stockings instead of tights and I'm pretty sure I saw a garter strap when you had your ass up in the air while you messed with your car before you kidnapped me. Why go through the trouble? Why not just wear tights? You said Ken Doll," he waved his arm in the general direction of where the picture was out in the apartment, "wasn't coming over so it's not for him. Either you were planning on going somewhere else, or you were just hoping some random sap would jump your bones. I'm guessing it's the latter with the way you dragged me over here. You're desperate. I can smell it on ya. Unfortunately for you, I'm not in the position to shag you right now."

Frustrated, she screamed, grabbing the front of his shirt like she could shake him to death. "What the fuck is wrong with you!? I'm _engaged_ to be married!" she said unnecessarily. "My life is fucking _fantastic_! But _your's_! You're so alone that you can't even find yourself a lawyer, bleeding in my bathroom, getting _jealous_-"

Duncan laughed. "Jealous of your life? Been there and done that sweetie. Let's see how much you have after the divorce. I hope your fiancé know's to get a prenup before he goes through with it. He's got to be at least ten year's older than you. What a little gold digger you turned out to be. I'm not surprised though. Don't tell me he didn't buy that car for you."

She clenched her jaw, trembling in her anger.

"And he's got to be paying the rent for this fancy place. That's pretty smart of him, realizing he'd lose his fucking mind if he was stuck _actually living _with your crazy ass."

Courtney couldn't take it anymore. She snapped. Clenching her fist, she socked Duncan in the left eye. Unfortunately, that's where he had his eyebrow piercing and it caused her fist to be in quite a bit of pain. "Ow!"

It hurt Duncan too, and his first reaction was to make a grab for her to prevent her from hurting him further. His hands grabbing her arms put her in a panic and as she struggled, her stocking feet slipped on the tiled floor. Her elbow landed on Duncan's wounded leg. He screamed and she screamed back, trying to claw at his face. Her nails should be able to catch one of his many piercing and cause more damage. She attempted to get her feet underneath her, but Duncan had trapped her with his legs before she could fully stand. He also managed to get one hand in her hair, pulling it almost painfully, effectively restraining her. She was at a weird angle, so she had to hold onto his damp shirt so she wouldn't slip further into his lap.

They glared at each other, breathing hard. The side of his face where she had hit him was slightly blushed pink, and his lips were pale. She couldn't move, not even to turn her head. He kept holding her, staring at her, and she almost wondered if he would bring his mouth down to kiss her. She almost wondered if she wanted him to, to hold her down with his strong arms that she couldn't possibly fight, and take her on floor.

But instead his grip loosened, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards with a clunk against the water tank.

"Duncan!" Oh no! She had killed him! He was dead in her bathroom!

Without his strength she was able to free herself to stand, and she leaned over him, patting his clammy face repeatedly. "Duncan! Duncan you fainted!"

He groaned in answer, at least telling her that he hadn't completely lost consciousness.

"We have to stop fooling around! How bad are you hurt?" she asked as she began to tug open his black studded belt. Her eyes had caught a glance at his leg. It was now drenched. Why had they wasted so much time? "I need you to help take off your pants. You're too heavy for me to lift."

"Whatever you wish, you greedy little princess." Courtney ignored the comment. Duncan used the sink to help him lift his hips from the seat of the toilet. Even with Duncan's help, it was not easy getting the thick and now wet fabric down. "But since..." Duncan breathed, "we're doing this anyway, do you think you could cut it out for me?"

"Cut what out?" she grunted. Pulling wasn't working. She was going to have to roll it down. She took out a pack of cigarettes, his wallet and his phone out of his pocket to do so.

Duncan sucked in a breath of pain. "The bullet," he gasped.

She paused for only a moment. "YOU WERE FUCKING SHOT!? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!? YOU NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL!" Courtney let go of his pants as if holding them would cause him further damage. "They would have to report the gunshot," she stated, now it dawning how important it was for Duncan to not want to go to the hospital.

Duncan stared at her balefully as her mind was still trying to reorganize itself.

"We can't go to the hospital," she said more calmly. "Charlie!"

"Who?"

"My fiancé. He's a doctor."

"Of_ course_ he is!"

"Oh, but we can't call him! Fuck! Did it hit any major arteries?! Of course it did! Look at this! You're bleeding to death!"

Courtney had been freaking out for the last minute or so, so Duncan attempted to push his pants past his knees himself, swearing the entire time as he revealed the soaked bandaged he had underneath."Give me the God damn scissors!"

Courtney hastily handed him over the first aid kit. "Charlie has more medical supplies in the office. I'll be right back! Don't die!"

She rushed away to grab it, also stopping in the kitchen to grab a bucket, some juice and a hand towel. When she came back, Duncan was still attempting to get one of the blades of the scissors under the ruined bandage. She put her things on the ground. "I'll do that." She poured some of the juice in a glass and handed it over to Duncan.

Duncan stated at her a little confused.

"Drink it, you've lost a lot of blood." He grabbed the glass in his bloody hand. She tied a tourniquet high up onto his thigh, trying really hard not to think about how he was only wearing his loose boxers. He grunted as she tightened it. "I don't think it hit the femoral artery or you would be dead by now. This should stop the bleeding." The sink was too small to fill the bucket with so she had to turn on the shower to fill it with water. There were bigger bathrooms upstairs but she didn't think Duncan would make it up the stairs. As the bucket was filling she cut off the bandage and cleaned his leg as best as she could with her damp cloth. "You said the bullet's still in there?"

Duncan tried to twist on the toilet. "It went through the back. Like I said earlier, I had tried to cauterize it, but my knife was so small and I couldn't really see what I was doing."

"This is such a mess!" Courtney exclaimed as she looked at the back of Duncan's thigh. Now that she had a lot of the blood cleaned up she could see the actual wound. "Why didn't you try to get the bullet out before you tried to cauterize it?!"

"I was kinda busy trying to run for my life," he replied sarcastically.

"Who shot you?!"

Duncan stared at her over his shoulder, his eyes questioning her.

"No! I'm not going to be your lawyer." She heaved a breath before looking back down at the bloody mess. "I think I feel it in there..." She tentatively prodded his flesh with her wash cloth. "Are you sure you want me to cut it out?"

"I'm in agony, so yeah."

She got up and went to the medicine cabinet above the sink. She grabbed a bottle of pain relieving pills and poured two into her palm. "Here take these," she said.

Instead of taking the two pills, Duncan grabbed the whole bottle, dumping it into his mouth before taking a swig of his juice.

"You're going to give yourself a stomach ulcer."

"I'll add that to the list of my problems."

"Fine." She was unsure of what to do with the two pills in her hand. She decided to give them to Duncan as well. Then she rolled up a dry wash cloth. "Bite into this. And take this." She pulled a form ball out of her pocket.

"What is that?"

"Stress reliever." She had used it many a time before for herself. Her hands were as strong as nails from it.

Duncan looked a little pathetic, holding his glass of juice next to the pill bottle on top of the water tank, washcloth in his mouth and stress ball in the other hand.

She washed her hands and put some gloves on for good measure. "Okay." She went back over to the wound, disinfecting the area. "What if I sever an artery?"

Duncan removed the cloth from his mouth "Then I bleed to death and die, Courtney."

"What do I tell the police?!"

"Don't? Just throw my body into the bay! I don't know! I won't be your problem anymore so I don't see why you're worried."

"S-stop talking! I'm trying to concentrate." She selected one of her fiancé's small knives for slicing skin, using her other hand to try to pin point the best place to make the incision. "Are you ready?"

"Yes!"

Courtney drew the knife across lightly, too tentative for a deep enough cut, but it didn't stop fresh blood from oozing. "OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD!" Duncan cried almost exactly at the same time she did, more out of nerves than actual pain as he already hurt. "Should I look?!" He twitched. "I don't wanna look."

"Stop moving! It's bleeding again. It's alright." She pushed gently with her fingers hoping the bullet would just pop out. She grimaced when she realized she would have to make the cut deeper.

"Fuck. Is it out yet?"

"No!"

"Hurry it up!"

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, this feels great!" he said sarcastically.

"I see it!" she cried out triumphantly. "Okay, I'm just going to push it out now."

Duncan put the cloth back in his mouth to shut himself up, squeezing the stress ball. The more he talked the more he distracted Courtney, and he seriously didn't want her to mess this up.

"Oh my God... Okay... Get over here you fucking little... Almost..."

Duncan bit down harder to prevent him from asking how it was going. Whatever she was doing sure as hell was smarting.

"I got it!" She stood up, holding the tiny little bullet in her hand. In the cramp space she almost tripped over Duncan's leg in her attempt to walk in a confused frantic circle. He grunted at the pain from her foot smacking him. She stumbled over to the little sink and dropped the bullet into it, making a tinkering noise as it spun around at the bottom of the porcelain. "Okay, now I'm going to sew you up." Duncan made to shift to look back. "Don't look at it now!" she said, waving a bloody hand at his face. "Don't move."

Duncan reached over to pick up the bullet from the sink, ignoring that Courtney told him not to move. He examined it for a moment, as if reading some strange information in where it came from. "That mother fucking cock sucker."

Courtney rolled her eyes, not bothering asking since she knew he wouldn't tell her and began sterilizing the wound. "Ow!" he whipped his head around to glare at her.

"Stop moving!" She wasn't as squeamish now that the bullet was out and the bleeding had lessened. It wasn't the first time she had stitched up a wound either. His skin twitched a little under her touch but he was no longer verbally complaining. She had been using her one forearm to help hold up the pant leg of his boxers to keep them out of the way without much thinking. It was only now that she realized her arm was pressed against his butt to do so. She briefly had a thought of how firm it was before trying to remove her arm and having the fabric annoyingly fall in the way again.

Duncan was miffed, drumming his fingers on the sink. "You know how much longer this is going to take, Princess? Cauterizing would have been a whole lot quicker."

"Don't call me Princess!" she snapped.

"What? I always call you Princess."

"Yeah, stop it."

_Whatever, Bitch._ He stopped himself from saying _that_ out loud. He needed her to hurry up. Now that the bullet was out, he was more aware of her touching him and how he wasn't wearing any pants. Thankfully, it didn't appear that Courtney noticed how it was affecting him, but he had already almost fainted earlier because with what was left of his blood supply was going into his boner. Man, why was she so fucking hot when she was crazy? This was the reason he had always known he was no good around her. She was going to fucking kill him. Especially if she noticed a tent in his shorts.

Currently he had _it_ down the pant leg that she wasn't pushing and tugging on. Thank God. And with him leaning toward the sink he was able to hide the bent leg with his upper body.

The both of them were quiet, which had always been unusual. He was even staying still for her, only his face twitching somewhat when she pulled the thread through his skin.

He thought maybe he should say something, something inappropriate, just to break this quiet calm that was now over them. He couldn't stand it.

Thankfully she starting speaking again.

"I'm going tie up this artery."

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I watched someone do this once."

"Oh great."

"The man's leg had been completely cleaned off!"

"What?"

"When we went to Guyana. It was a tree cutting accident. That's where I met Charlie actually. He was there to help unfortunate children get vaccinated, and one of his colleges, Roberto, just tied the whole thing up. The leg that is. It was truly inspiring. Well except for all the blood and screaming, but I only freaked out a little. Charlie has a very calming voice and he explain the process as we watched Roberto do it. "

Now Duncan wished she would shut up.

It took a couple more minutes. He kept the cloth in his mouth to keep himself from saying something he would regret and would most likely have Courtney saw his leg off, but then she was soon done.

"There. These stitches are suppose to be able to dissolve on their own. There not really meant for big wounds, so you're going to have to be careful that you don't reopen it again." She was putting something cold and slimy over the wound now.

"I still think we should have cauterized it."

"That didn't work well the first time!" she snapped.

"I'd have help this time. Besides, doesn't the thought of melting my flesh satisfy you?" he joked.

"It's temping," she agreed as she placed a bandaged over the wound before securing it with medical tape. "But I think you'd like that too much."

Was she flirting with him? He grinned to himself. Relaxing for the first time in her presence.

She got up, gathering the things around. "I'll let you clean yourself up and I'll go make dinner. Here's a clean towel."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're eating something. I'm not carrying your body when you pass out again." She pulled off her gloves before putting them in the wastepaper basket, running her hands in the sink again just in case Duncan had AIDS or something. "You realize how much blood you lost? I can't believe you're not dead! Besides I'm hungry. It's way past dinner time and I have a lot of work to do."

She carried her things out of the small bathroom into the kitchen leaving him. Only once out of Duncan's presence did she let her body shudder with a sigh. "Fuck... Duncan..." She felt a surge of pity for him all of a sudden. It was weird. She hadn't pitied him in... twelve years? And he had been in prison for ten of those years. He certainly didn't usually deserve pity. What in the world was going on with him?

Not that she cared.

After making sure to sterilize each of the tools, she returned them back to their box. She left the box on one of the stools to the breakfast island before getting ready to make dinner. Glancing at the small calendar set in the middle of her freezer door, she read the quick, neat notes on what her meals would be for the next several months. She hadn't planned on feeding a guest tonight. She bit her lip as she placed her finger over a day where Charlie would be over. Tuscan Chicken for Two. She could substitute that night for another meal, and make a note to buy ingredients to make up for the lost day. Usually she had the meals pre-planned a month a head of time and ingredients delivered weekly as she didn't have much spare time to think about cooking. Her secretary was the one that put her in this mess. _She _was the one that allowed Duncan to set up an appointment. She should send her _secretary_ out to go grocery shopping for her and Charlie for the day missed.

She tapped her cooking tablet which was on a stand that looked like a cute jolly chef. Charlie had given it to her as a gift when they had first started dating. Charlie didn't cook, and thought it important that she did. She wasn't an award winning chef or anything but she could certainly follow a recipe, and she didn't really mind the act either. It was one of those things that had a set of rules that needed to be followed and Courtney always loved her rules.

After finding the recipe pre-bookmarked on the same app that was responsible for delivery her groceries, she got to work, deciding to pair it with a cup of creamy pasta. She placed some classical music on to calm her nerves. It wasn't every day that you dug a bullet out of your ex-boyfriend's leg. She tried not to worry about him. Of course she wanted to know what was going on, but he was holding that information to himself to try to get her to do what he wanted. He was still Duncan after all, and Duncan always knew how to get himself out of trouble without her help. Or at least he acted like it.

Duncan was all too happy to get Courtney out of the bathroom as quick as possible. He locked the door when she was gone, not being surprised if she just flung it open to yell at him for using too much water or something. He ripped off his sweat soaked shirt and then very tenderly pulled his boxers over the new bandage on his thigh. Looking at it, it did look a lot better than the one he had tried to slap on earlier, but whatever. He took a quick _very cold _shower to get the reminisce of blood, sweat and Courtney's touch off his body.

Courtney had a whole array of different flowery and fruity soaps. He wasn't too keen on using any of them in fear that he might smell like a girl, but who was he really trying to impress? Courtney was and really always had been way out of his league. He didn't really have any hope of getting back with her. Though that didn't stop him from sniffing each one of her shampoos until he found the one that reminded him most of her. Man was he a sorry sap.

After his shower he dried himself off with the towel Courtney had left him. Fluffing up his hair, he decided to snoop around the medicine cabinet, too. He found some cotton swabs he used to clean his ears with. He also found a deodorant stick and after looking at the winter green label he concluded it was most likely Courtney's fiancé's than her's. He decided to use it anyway, hoping it would leave an armpit hair behind. He only looked once at his dirty, bloody clothen to decide he wasn't putting those back on, and instead took a pink robe that was hanging on the back of the door that was definitely Courtney's.

He unlocked and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the sappy classical music, and his brain was already thinking of some snarky comment to say about it. Until his nose smelled the food cooking, that is. He didn't realize he was hungry until he smelled the rosemary and thyme. The sun was now beginning to set, flooding the entire apartment in yellow and orange from the large windows all around.

He had never thought of himself settling down to a domestic life, but now, in this comfortable, inviting atmosphere, he felt a spark of jealously for the picture of the man down the hall. He crept further into the living room, rounding the wall that divided the kitchen from the hall. Courtney hadn't heard him leave the bathroom as she was still busy stirring a pot and checking some sizzling chicken in a pan. She had taken her suit jacket off, the sleeves of her blouse rolled up to the elbow. She even had an apron on, the string tied tight around her small, slender waist, only accentuating her large round hips. He wanted to go stand behind her, put an arm around her to secure her against him. He wanted to kiss her neck under her hair, much like a husband would do to his wife who was cooking dinner for him. Fuck. He shouldn't be here. He didn't come here for this. Why was he here?

Courtney saw Duncan in the corner of her eye and became startled, almost dropping a piece of chicken. "W-what are you wearing?!" she cried, her eyes a gaped.

"You really wanted me to put back the bloody clothes I had on earlier?"

"I..." She should have brought his clothes to the wash. The laundry room was down stairs though, and what if someone suspected something if she waltz down there with a pair of bloody jeans. She could attempt to wash them in the tub maybe... "You... I should have put your clothes in the laundry."

"Then they would have still been in the laundry and I still wouldn't have them."

"I could have found you something else! That's mine!"

"Oh is it?" Duncan asked with a crafty grin. "It's not your Sugar Daddy's?" The pink robe barely covered his ass, and he had only halfheartedly closed it, revealing that he had even more tattoos on his chest. The image said something in fancy lettering, but she couldn't see enough of it to read it.

"_I _make my _own_ money!" she said referring to the 'Sugar Daddy' comment. Charlie wasn't that much older than her. "You look ridiculous," she snapped, slapping a piece of chicken onto a plate before spooning some pasta onto it.

"We at lease it's comfortable. So airy down here too."

She rolled her eyes, refusing to look at him in case she saw a little too much of him. "Did you get that bandage wet!?" she accused. She did notice his hair had been damp. "I told you those stitches-"

"I didn't put my leg in the water spray. Relax."

"Still, water droplets would have run down your skin and gotten on it."

"Run down my skin, huh?"

She practically threw his plate on the kitchen island toward him, hoping the clatter would destroy the mental image that he was trying to force into her mind. She took her plate over to the dining table, so she could eat her food as far away from him as possible.

"This is a pretty romantic dinner," he noted, picking up his chicken with his fork and taking a bite out of it like a neanderthal instead of cutting it up like a civilized person.

"It's just food. There's nothing romantic about it!"

"I mean, I was expecting Spaghetti-Os or instant Mac and Cheese. Not a home cooked dinner. You went through the trouble."

"First of all, ew. Second of all, I do not _ have _Spaghetti-Os or Mac and Cheese. I only eat _real_ food, so this is what you get, too. I'm not poor." She poured herself a glass of wine.

"Obviously. Could I have some of that?"

She looked up, realizing she had forgotten to give him a drink. "No! You get juice."

"What are you, my parole officer?"

She marched back to the kitchen area to get him the juice. "With the amount of blood you've lost, you'd be sloshed after one sip."

"I don't get _drunk_ off of wine."

She ignored him and handed him the glass of juice which he took with a roll of his eyes. She returned to her meal, intent on finishing it without more conversation. She was glad that Duncan had chosen to stand to eat because they both knew the robe wouldn't have been able to keep him decent on one of the bar stools.

Duncan's eyes wandered around the apartment as he munched. "So where's Brittany?" he asked.

"Who?"

Duncan put down his food and stared down at Courtney. "Brittany," he repeated incredulously and Courtney's stomach sank with guilt as she realized who he was talking about. "Don't tell me. She _died?!_" She was surprised to hear the distress in his voice. "I never got to say goodbye!"

"She didn't die," she tried to reassure.

"YOU GOT RID OF BRITTANY?!" he shouted, angry now.

She shouted back. "SHE'S AT A WILDLIFE SANCTUARY! SHE'S A WILD ANIMAL! THAT'S WHERE SHE BELONGS!"

"Are you fucking serious?! It was_ your _idea to get a raccoon in the first place! And after all the money the both of us spent in that custody battle to keep her!? What the fuck?!"

Courtney huffed. "Oh, and she would have been better off with you?! You, being in prison and getting shot at! She would have gotten hurt living with you, especially in her old age, or taken and put down!"

"You didn't even keep her. _I_ loved her!"

"_I _did what was best for her!"

"Yeah right. I bet it was because your Mr. Perfect wouldn't accept her running around here."

"No, I got rid-I sent her away," she corrected, "way before I met Charlie. She's happy there. I get pictures of her from time to time."

Duncan stomped over to the table and swiped the wine bottle up. Courtney sat, too shock to stop him. She knew that Duncan had always had a soft side for animals (even though he had tried to hide it from people) but she had really thought he couldn't stand the wild raccoon she had brought into their lives in a hope that caring for it would make Duncan into a responsible parent for their future kids. He had fought her tooth and nail over anything that he thought was supposed to be some sort of lesson for him.

"You owe me this," he said referring to the wine bottle he just stole and returning to his spot by the breakfast island. "For all the money from the law suite, and my broken _heart._" He took a swing straight from the bottle.

She stared at him in bewilderment for a moment."You didn't even like her! You only wanted to take her to hurt me!" Duncan was still gulping the wine down, his eyebrows drawn together in a glare, ignoring her. "Okay! Fine! I'm sorry then! I'm sorry I sent Brittany to a wild life sanctuary without... I don't know, letting you know about it."

Duncan swallowed. "I... accept your apology." She stared at him, wondering if he would apologize to her for all the things _he_ did. He had cost her a million dollars on several occasions, not to mention all the times he'd broken her heart.

He burped.

Nope. Of course not.

"Where is she anyway?"

"Alberta..."

"Alberta!" He threw his free arm in the air. "All the way over there!"

They continued their meal in silence. Duncan had finished first though she hadn't noticed. When her plate was clean he walked over and took it from her.

"I'll clean up. You made dinner."

"You don't know where everything goes!" she protested. Duncan ignored her, limping over to the kitchen with her cutlery.

"I think I can figure it out," he said, as he rinsed the juices off the plate in the sink.

"I have a dishwasher."

"Got it," he said, opening it up to place the dishes in.

"The pan can't go in the dishwasher."

"Right." He headed over to the sink.

"Don't use the Scotch-Brite. It will scratch the pan. Use the regular sponge. And the Ajax under the sink for the copper bottom of the pot."

"Yes, Princess."

She watched him for a moment, him doing exactly what he was told. After staring as his broad back strained against her own small robe she turned to leave. "I'll take care of your clothes."

She decided to take them down to the laundry room anyway. Who would really be paying attention? She debated about spot treating the blood spot first, but as the blood was more than just a spot, she just threw all the clothes in the wash on cold. After they've been soaking for a while, she would address the situation after.

When she returned to her apartment, Duncan was sprawled on her couch, but thanks to the couch arm she didn't see anything unsightly when she walked in. She frowned, before going over to the closet to pull out a blanket. She threw it over his lap, startling him for a moment.

"Thanks..." he said, covering himself up more with the soft material. "I refilled your wine glass. It's over... there... somewhere." He pointed in the general direction of the coffee table that was only about a foot and half away from him, his hand wavering like he couldn't see it clearly. "I used a coaster."

"Are you drunk?"

"Fuck no, babe." She sat hesitantly in the chair across from him, picking up her glass. He rubbed his face hard. "Unless you... drugged me."

"No, I just opened that bottle of wine."

"What kind was it?"

"French Burgundy. It has a rather low alcohol content. It's because of your blood loss."

"Psh!" He waved his hand. "I'm good... I'm good." He shifted on the couch, rubbing his injured leg as if he was uncomfortable. "I'm real good."

She gave him a small grin. She had never seen Duncan drunk before.

His shining eyes went around the room before landing on hers. "How are you? You good? You seem good. You look good. You look great."

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome."

Her phone started ringing. "Oh shit!" She had left it in her purse all this time. That was very unlike her. She rushed over to retrieve it from where it hung by the door. "It's Charlie!" she said quickly over her shoulder. "So you know, be quiet!"

Duncan actually giggled, putting a finger to his mouth as if to shush himself. She rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs.

"Honey!" she said answering the phone. "I'm so sorry I missed your first break! I've been so busy it just slipped my mine."

"That is perfectly fine. I didn't even notice, truth be told," he chuckled. "It's been busy here at the hospital as well. I was actually calling to see if I left some equipment at your apartment." Courtney's eyes widened.

"Yes... you did..." she said, rushing back down stairs for she had left it in the kitchen. "It's exactly where you left it here in the office!" she lied, as she quickly grabbed the box to return the tools.

"Oh good. Now don't touch them. They are very expensive."

"Oh I would never," she said as she placed them back in one of the closets of the office.

"They're a sample from a new vendor the hospital may buy from. If you could just make sure I take them with me next week when we see each other."

"Of course."

"Alright, goodbye my darling."

She cringed, wiping the box with her blouse as if she could erase her fingerprints from it. She had been wearing gloves when using the actual tools and had cleaned them as best as she could, but her paranoid mind just imagined Charlie finding Duncan's blood on them.

She crawled her way back downstairs.

"You tell him 'bout me?" Duncan asked as soon as she was in eyesight.

"It didn't come up."

"Interesting."

"It doesn't mean anything!"

"I'm _kidding..._! Stop it..." he slurred. "We're just old friends catching up."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "We're not friends. We have never been friends. What this is, is charity, which I unfortunately can't even write off in my taxes!"

"You are such a good, nice person, aren't you?"

"I am," she agreed, sitting back down and choosing to ignore his sarcasm.

"You keep in touch with any of the others?"

"Hell no." She gave a look of disgust. "I don't want to ever think about that time of my life again." Not that being on international TV hadn't been helpful with landing her a job or getting clients, but she was glad that most people didn't seem to remember Total Drama anymore.

"Why not with Gwen?"

"Why?" she snapped. "How do you know I don't keep in touch with Gwen?!"

"Um, because you just said you don't keep in touch with any of them."

"Oh. I don't. Just busy I guess. Especially since I moved over here." She hadn't even thought about reaching out to Gwen after she was voted off the show. She still wasn't sure if she had completely forgiven her. It annoyed her that Duncan brought her up. Of course he would bring her up.

Courtney sipped at her wine. She didn't care to hear about the others.

"Well at least you're doing good. You got the job, money, love. You're doing great."

"What about you?" she didn't really want to talk about him but it would be better than him repeating how great she was doing. "You said you had a job."

"It has a modest pay check," he winked at her. "As for the love part, I'm flying solo at the moment." Not that she had asked.

"And your recent legal trouble?"

Duncan tisked at her. "You know what you need to do to obtain that confidential information."

She rolled her eyes. "In the morning I'll call Lou P-"

"I don't need you calling anyone for me. I'm an adult."

"What about your parents? Can't they help you out? Aren't they police officers?"

Duncan laughed cruelly. "Ah. That didn't much work the first time I got thrown into the crib. They're basically both assholes anyway. It don't matter though."

Courtney frowned at him. She wasn't particularly close to her parents either but they would have stepped in for her time of need. In fact, it was her father that set her up with her fiancé when she had all but given up on men.

"So when's the wedding?"

"Excuse me?" Courtney stared blankly at him before realizing what he said. "Oh, you mean _my_ wedding!"

Duncan rolled his eyes.

"It's not for many months! Not until the fall."

"I see."

She found herself talking about her life plans, used to running her mouth about them. "It's going to be at Stanley Park Pavilion on September 23rd, which is run by Charlie's second cousin, so we don't have to pay the whole vendor fee. Afterwards we're having our honeymoon in Rome, before coming back to North America. We will then move to Charlie's estate in California, where his father is gifting us this lovely, modest, 10 bedroom home on 77 acres!"

"California?" Duncan grumbled. She noticed that Duncan had the wine bottle on the floor next to him after he picked it up again. She decided to not pay attention to it.

"I have several connections in the States already, and it would be a perfect time for a career change if I don't feel like sticking with medical. I could go into corporate law if it seems more suitable. But we will only live there for as long as it takes to raise the children. We will have them right away since I'm already almost 30." She shuddered. "I don't want more than two because more than two would just completely ruin my body, but also in Cali, they have an excellent designer children program."

"Designer children?"

"Yes." Was he just going to repeat everything she said? "You can prevent a number of birth defects with genetic science these days, and I don't want my children having anything against them they would hinder their success. We want one boy and one girl. Charlie Worthington the 2nd, and Harriet Worthington. You can choose their eye color! Both Charlie and I have brown eyes, but it turns out we both have the recessive gene for blue, so with a little science," she snapped her fingers. "Blue eyed children. It has a 99 percent success rate. Why not pick the eye color while we're at it? Oh, they are just absolutely adorable. Can you imagine, children with my skin complexion but with bright blue eyes! So precious." She was actually really looking forward to having children. She knew she was a little late in the game, but it was important to make sure she had her career established before doing so.

Duncan was staring at her with his cheek in one of his hands, elbow on the armrest. His own, very blue eyes narrowed at her, quite in contrast with his dark brows. She suddenly remembered where the notion of her wanting blue eyed children had come from. She had forgotten, as being with Duncan had been so long ago. "If you want kids with blue eyes so much why don't you just get with someone with blue eyes? You get a higher percent of a chance and don't pay anything. But I mean, why care what your kids look like? You love them no matter. Whatever."

"I-I guess. I mean of course I would love them no matter but... It was more Charlie's idea. It was a silly teenage fantasy I had and Charlie said he wanted all my fantasy to come true no matter how silly they were." She laughed.

Duncan rolled his eyes but she decided she didn't care.

"Don't see what's wrong with your eyes." He gazed at her. She swallowed her wine. "You could get lost in them. Dark, black, like your terrible, horrifying, materialistic soul."

"Yeah whatever." She ignored him, for she had thought he was about to complement her. "Once the children are in their late teens, we'll head back to Canada where I will then get into politics to run for Prime Minister. I won't be able to become president of the United States, but Harriet will be. It needs to be Harriet because they haven't had a woman president yet."

"What if she doesn't want to be the president of the United States?"

"Why wouldn't she want to be president of the United States!?"

They were talking too much about her. She didn't need to know Duncan's opinion on her parenting when she hadn't even become a parent yet. She tried to think of another question to ask Duncan, but she had already tried to do that earlier and he had been quite vague about everything. Duncan let out a big yawn.

"Why are you in Vancouver?" she asked bluntly.

"Vacation."

"It has nothing to do with you needing a lawyer?" she asked suspiciously.

"That was an unfortunate mishap that coincidentally happened afterwards. I was actually hoping that I could get work over here but all this... you know, stuff just happened."

"Well what _can_ you tell me about yourself?!" she snapped.

"You want to know more about _me?_" he asked arrogantly.

"We're having a conversation! Both parties should be participating!" She thought he might slip up with some details.

"Sorry babe. It's been kind of a crazy day for me today, and I'm beat."

She looked over at the clock. It wasn't even eight PM yet, but with what evidence she could see already, Duncan did have a crazy day. She sighed. It wasn't really that she wanted him to stay up to keep talking to her. They weren't getting anywhere in this conversation anyway. It also wasn't that she _liked_ the way his glazed eyes were staring at her either. Both things had been awkward. But she had to know what he did... Or what he didn't do. He was looking at her expectantly now, waiting for her to cave and agree to him. Then he would tell her all the juicy details.

No! She must resist. If there was one thing she did know about Duncan, it was that he was a conniving, manipulating, secret keeping, backstabbing liar! The years didn't really seemed to have changed him. Nothing to prove to her that he wasn't all those things. But she would still be nice. She would be the better person. She stood up. "I'll show you to your room."

The guest room was right in front of the bathroom so they only had to walk a few feet. "You know where the bathroom and the kitchen are if you get thirsty or something. When your clothes are ready, I'll leave them in the bathroom." She opened the guest room to present the queen sized bed. "The sheets are clean."

"I wouldn't doubt it," he said quietly as he followed her into the room. He looked over to the far side of the room which had the same giant windows as the living and dining area. She flipped a switch so that the blinds moved down.

"Sorry, this room doesn't get used too often. Have a good night." As she began to walk out, she heard him breathe her name. Stopping at the doorway, she turned around, the door handle in one hand as she was ready to close it. He was standing rather close to her. She stared straight ahead, her eyes meeting his chest rather than his face. She didn't want to look up at him, to acknowledge that he was taller or had any power over her whatsoever.

Did the tattoo on his chest say "Bad Boy"? How very cliche and dumb.

"Goodnight." She suddenly looked up when he had spoken, forgetting that he was talking to her. She could see that he was still slightly drunk and he was leaning in too close to her. When she caught the sight of his icy blue eyes she panicked for only a second.

"Yep!" and then she closed the door in his face. She dusted off her hands like she had just taken out the trash, before she did a quick check to see that the kitchen was actually clean. Then she went upstairs.

She should be quite satisfied with herself. Obviously she was doing better than Duncan career wise. She was a lawyer after all, but it made it even better to discover that he was currently single. Not because she wanted him of course, because she was totally not single. Not only was she engaged, but she was marrying into a family that would have her financially set for life, way more than a measly million bucks from some game show would have made her.

She suspected that maybe Duncan was divorced, as he had mention something about it earlier when they were fighting in the bathroom. Though she couldn't see where her would have had time to get married if he had been in prison for 10 out of the 11 years since she had seen him. Maybe he was talking about a failed long distance relationship. Of course it didn't work. He had been in prison!

She wouldn't get divorced though. No, everything was going too perfectly for her for that to happen.

This had been her dream ever since she first broke up with that ogre. Him, alone and a failure, while she was successful happy, but now that she was older and more mature, all she really felt was pity for the poor man.

She tried to get some work down, but she found herself too distracted to effectively do so, so she left her office to just do some reading over her current cases in her bedroom. She was relieved when her phone buzzed, notifying her that Duncan's clothes were done.

She threw his T-shirt and boxers into a drier before returning to her apartment to try to get the blood stain out of the jeans herself. These were probably his only clothes, she thought as she scrubbed at the stain with a toothbrush, ignoring that he did say he had a job. What if he was homeless? Was he really on 'vacation'? He certainly didn't have a woman to do his laundry for him.

When the other articles of clothing were dry, she even ironed them for him, turning the T-shirt inside out so that it wouldn't hurt the band logo that was on it. Though it was already coming off as it was. She then neatly folding the T-shirt and boxers, setting them on the toilet tank with his wallet and other personal items. She threw out his cigarettes. He didn't need those. He'd thank her later. She let the jeans hang over the shower curtain to dry. After she was done doing these tasks, she convinced herself that she had done more than enough for him already, and heading back upstairs to continue reading.

She sat at the desk in her room, lights off besides the desk lamp, staring at her case files. Duncan came here to go on vacation? Who goes on a vacation alone? She guessed it wasn't too weird of a concept. She wasn't sure. She never had time for vacations. And then somebody shot him while he was on vacation? How terrible. Why would somebody shoot him? He probably deserved it...

Or maybe he got shot by accident? Maybe that was the whole reason he was looking for a lawyer in the first place. That made perfect sense! Of course that made perfect sense for a normal person. Duncan was more likely to find the guy that did it and murder him himself. Maybe that was what he needed the lawyer for...Oh gosh!

After about an hour of her rereading the same sentence over and over again, she decided she was going to take that bath after all. She went back downstairs to refill her wine glass, eyes shifting over to Duncan's door which he hadn't made a peep from. He must have pasted out.

_Don't check on him, Courtney..._ She could just imagine it, her opening the door which would undoubtedly wake him up. He would then assume she had opened the door to crawl into bed with him. What other reason would there be?!

She hadn't had sex in a while. In fact, she hadn't actually had a sexual encounter with Charlie yet. Nothing but polite kissing. Charlie was a born again Christian, one of the many reasons why her father had picked him out for her. But she also found it kind of romantic when Charlie had suggested to wait until their marriage night. Courtney had never been in a relationship with a man that didn't want to get into her pants, and in a way, it had made her even more attracted to Charlie. It wasn't that Charlie was not a passionate person. He was extremely passionate about his work, education and culture. He was charming and suave, but not too flirtatious and definitely never vulgar. Courtney decided that she would wait and that it would be worth it.

She didn't think it weird. As people got older, they married quicker. Her and Charlie didn't have a fiery love affair but that wasn't why they were getting married. They were getting married because they wanted the same things in life. They were much a like. Well maybe except for the fact that Charlie didn't seem to miss sex as much as she did. She_ had_ been wearing sexy underwear, but it wasn't because she was trying to cheat on her fiancé. It was for herself. She liked to feel attractive sometimes. She didn't need a man to be turned on. That's what vibrators were full! Many of her previous boyfriends had been pretty lazy lovers anyway.

Duncan hadn't been lazy in that way, but that didn't matter.

She filled up her tub in the master bathroom, looking for her bath salts. She wasn't going to think of Duncan in any sort of sexual way. She should go back to pitying him. After setting up the tub, she found one of her old college text books on audio to play. She undressed, letting the words of _ The Fundamentals of Health Law_ drone on. She soaked her stressed body, relaxing to the rules of the law. She had of course read the book from cover to cover but it never hurt to reread information. She finished her wine and listened until the water became cold. Chapter five was giving some fine facts that were relevant with a case she had be struggling with earlier this week. It was a botched up boob job that they were claiming the fixing of wasn't medically necessary. She normally thrived on these types of cases as she felt she was empowering these poor women against the doctors that had marred them which were almost always men. This was only difficult because her client was also a bitch. It was taken up precious energy that was needed to concentrate on what had to be done for the case to just communicate with her client in a civil manner. She did feel bad. Her fake breast were obviously painful.

She was glad that she had no interest in cosmetic surgery. She never had a man complain, though looking at her thighs she thought she could stand to lose some weight. She wedged working out in her busy day at 4:30 am in the morning, but it didn't really seem to be helping much. She stopped pinching at her thighs when the audio made an excellent point that would go hand and hand with her case.

"Of course!" she said to herself. "Why didn't I think about that before?" She let the tub drain, still listening to the audio going over such a completely basic point of human rights. She had this case in the bag as long as she could keep her client from complaining over every single thing the judge said.

Inspired by the text book, she left the master bathroom, drying off and slipping on a sheer pink night gown that reached just mid-thigh. She turned her laptop on, jotting down some notes on how she would present her case at court next Thursday. She worked for a few more hours on her laptop, the clock now showing it was about 10:15 pm.

"... that would lead a medical surgeon to commit his duties in such a _perfunctory _course of action... " She typed with one hand, the other one holding her electric toothbrush in her mouth. "Perfunctory!" she said around her toothbrush before turning it off and heading back to the bathroom to spit. "That's a _good_ word..."

She spat and wiped her mouth, looking at her reflection. "... is completely and utterly unexceptionable!" she finished her sentence. She made to go back to finish typing it as well when she heard a squeak on her stairs.

She froze. She had completely forgotten Duncan was even here, too caught up in her work. Now, she wasn't sure why she should be hearing him on her staircase. Did she lock the door? No. She hadn't.

She put a toe under her bed, pushing out the baseball bat she kept under there and then marched forward with her weapon in hand. How dare he? That pig headed, sick, perverted bastard! She ripped open her bedroom door in anger.

She caught Duncan on top of the staircase, wide eyed, still in her bath robe, still looking ridiculous. "What are you doing?!" she accused.

"I-"

"Your clothes are in the _down_ stairs bathroom. There's no reason for you to come up here!"

Duncan's mouth just hung open, unable to form a sentence. She shut the door behind her, not wanting him to see the inside of her bedroom. "Where you trying to get into my _bed?!_"

Was he still drunk?! Why was he standing there just staring at her?! She suddenly remembered what she was wearing and that she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. She couldn't really recall just how sheer the garment was and didn't want to look down at herself to acknowledge her embarrassment. With the way that Duncan was looking at her it appeared that it must have been quite sheer indeed, but she knew the bodice and the end of the skirt had a lace pattern that she hopped covered anything that may have been seen.

"I have a bat!" she yelled which seemed to snap him out of whatever horned, wine induced stupidity he was having. She held it up, using her arms to hide her nipples just in case he could see through the lace.

"I think I could take you with a bat," he said playfully.

"It has a 10 inch spike nail in it," she said, twisting the bat so he could see. His face went back to looking fearful. "What are you doing up here?!" she asked again.

"Listen, Courtney, I..." He took another breath. "I came up because I never said thank you. Not sincerely enough, anyway."

She lowered her bat but still stared at him with suspicion.

"For letting me stay the night, making dinner, patching me back up. You really didn't have to. And even referring that other lawyer for me. I just feel really shitty that you might not understand how incredibly grateful I am. This, this is so nice of you."

"Any decent human being-" He suddenly dropped to his knees. "Duncan!" she cried fearing that his wounded leg had given out on him.

"Courtney." His eyes were still locked with hers, his fingertips reaching for the floor in front of him. "Thank you," he murmured again.

She blinked at him confused. Surely him going on his knees to thank her was a little overboard. "Duncan... get up." This was making her incredibly uncomfortable. She should feel empowered to be standing over him. But she didn't.

Instead he just leaned slowly forward closer to her. "Thank you..." he breathed again, and Courtney felt his breath ruffle up her skirt, sending shivers across her body.

She stared at Duncan wondering if he knew. He did. He was right about her sexual frustration. He had known that all night. He hadn't come here to just thank her. She should bring the bat, nail down, through his head.

His eyes were burning her. "Let me thank you..." His breath was coming out hard. Another one seemed to fly up her legs. She was so alarmed by the reminder that she wore no panties that she didn't even notice when Duncan's nose slipped under the hem of her night gown. She gave a startled shout at the feeling of warmth, his chin hairs scratching the inside of her thighs and she fell back against the door. Duncan's hands kept her from crumbling to the floor, securing themselves just right under her butt.

She was thrown back in time, being 16 at camp Wawanakwa and running off into the woods at night with Duncan as he tried to convince her how far they could go without a condom. God, he still had that tongue piercing she realized. And he remembered how she liked it too. It had been so long since anyone had done this for her.

She gave a small whine, not sure of what to do as her bat had been dropped. Her hands instead found themselves digging into his hair, gripping his head for dear life as he languidly lapped his tongue against her. She felt herself move one of her legs up over his shoulder against her will, his tongue now reaching into her. She gave a throaty moan, now grinding her hips against his face without shame. He growled in satisfaction and for a moment she remembered that she was with Duncan and what she was letting him do to her. But it was too late now, wasn't it? She couldn't stop this.

One of Duncan's hand began to travel up her body. It cupped her breast, lifting the weight of it for a moment before going higher, fingers stroking her neck and hairline. His thumb skimmed the outline of her open lips. She bit gently on the pad of his thumb, and Duncan groaned, vibrations seeming to travel up her bones. He inserted his thumb deeper into her mouth, thrusting it in time with his tongue. She moaned, begging, pleading, for him to reach deeper inside of her. She sucked on his thumb, bobbing her head as if that could get him in as deep as she craved him to be.

His thumb popped out of her mouth when she needed to breathe. She was moaning louder, signaling she was getting close. Duncan swiftly changed technique, his tongue now rapidly moving over her clit. She yelled out loudly, her voice getting higher and higher as her orgasm approached. Duncan returned his hand to her hip, holding her still as he gave her no more mercy. She screamed out in a high pitch voice as she came on his face, gasping she couldn't get enough air.

She opened her eyes to see that her butt was now on the floor, as the both of them must have slid down to the ground. Duncan's face was still in between her legs, giving her a lazy kiss. She blindly reach up behind her, looking for the door knob. She must escaped this. She had already turned the knob as he was lifting his head.

She fell backwards as the door opened, quickly grabbing the bat as she pulled herself into the bedroom. On her hands and knees she quickly closed and locked the door. She tried to stand but she just crumbled to the floor again. She crawled to her bed, hoping sleep would erase what had happened, and turn it into a dream.


	2. You're Welcome

AN: I don't know why this took so long. I'm sorry. It's shorter than the other chapter, and I kept thinking I had to go all the way until the end of the day, but I think this ends good here. I had to convince myself that for the longest time.

Chapter 2

You're Welcome

Duncan's only purpose for the rest of his night was to get plastered out of his mind. This was pretty easy for him to do, since he was way more than just buzzed when he started. He found his clothes and put his jeans on even though they were still damp. He couldn't really tell anymore anyway as he was too drunk to feel much, yet the intoxication hadn't quite numbed the pain in his leg.

It hadn't even began to touch the ache in his chest, but he had all night to address that. His smokes were gone, and he knew Courtney enough to know that they were in the garbage, were he easily dug them out. He then left, stealing Courtney's French Burgundy and leaving the apartment building.

He wandered the street until he found an ATM machine. He then quite drunkenly took out an insane amount of cash, getting pissed off when he realized the limit was $2000.00. He was sort of hoping he'd get mugged. Maybe he'd get shanked and bleed to death and not have to actually worry about tomorrow or the rest of his life. When nobody volunteered to do so, he went to a bar to get more booze.

He had always been pretty good at making friends. Especially with strangers who he would never see again. They were the best friends to have, really. They wouldn't know him long enough for their relationship to get ruined. He didn't even have to try. After downing his first shot of whiskey he already had a girl approaching him.

"Hey... weren't you on TV?"

"No he wasn't," he heard her friend hastily whisper to her.

"No... I think he was on that show. The survival show with the island!"

"Sure was, sweetheart," he replied eyeing the two girls up, already calculating what they drank, how much they could handle and which one would be the easiest to convince to take him home with her. He had washed out Courtney's taste in his mouth with the whiskey, but it didn't numb his lips enough yet to make him forget it all together.

"Yeah, he was the hot one in that drama show! Didn't you go to prison?" That put a damper on the blissful mind numbing mood he was trying to suffocate himself in. "That's kinda hot, though," said the very drunk girl leaning on her friend. She was probably twenty, twenty-one years old. She must have been just a kid when the show had come out. He wasn't sure if he cared.

They shared some pointless conversation with each other until he had somehow succeeded in worming the drunker girl away from her friend. He thought about fucking her. He thought maybe it would make him feel better. It wouldn't. He knew that. He probably would have done it anyway, if his leg wasn't smarting so much. The girl was too drunk to walk and after she past out, he sat with her to make sure she was alright until her friend came back for her. In a way, those ten years in prison had almost made him softer than when he went in. Almost. The year after had hardened him back up.

The bar eventually kicked everyone out, and he went to go find another one. If he stayed around people, he'd be safe. When everyone had to go home, that's when he was in trouble.

Once everything was closed, he started to wander down the sidewalks in a not so straight line. It was late so not many cars were on the road, but whenever one did drive by he would stop and watch it pass, wondering if they were looking for him, if they would stop and shoot him dead where he stood. It was better than going back to prison, wasn't it? Anything would be better than to sit and do nothing with the rest of his life. Limping down the street with the bay wind beating on his back was freedom. He would never relinquish his freedom to anyone ever again.

He tripped and stumbled, catching himself on a railing as the sidewalk and road were now going over a bridge. He threw up a little bit before continuing onward. If anyone did find him, he sure as hell would not be able to run away. Why did his leg hurt so much? Yeah, he got shot but he shouldn't be able to feel anything if he drank enough, right?

Apparently that was wrong. That was so wrong.

He placed his feet over the cement barrier base that separated him from the open air of the bridge and griped onto the metal bars of the fence. The bars went over his head, even with him stepping on its foundation which was a couple of meters off the ground. Probably to prevent people from doing exactly what he was trying to do. He somehow managed to pull himself over it, only ripping his shirt a little and banging his bad leg up a lot.

"Fucking hell," he moaned, now seated on the cement base on the other side of the fence, his legs dangling, and hands gripping the metal bars behind him. Why did they have to make it so difficult to get a nice view of the bay?

He almost expected someone to show up and find him, tell him not to jump. Don't let go. He still had so much to live for. All that bullshit. He wasn't sure if it would kill him, looking down at the water below. But he was also not so sure if he could swim well with his bad leg, or at all, with how drunk he was. Yeah, he'd probably drown. His heart started to pound with the possibility.

He sat there for 15 minutes, really hoping someone would come. Man, was he just that lonely?

Why did he come here? Of course it didn't matter where he went. Trouble always followed him. Coming here wouldn't, and didn't fix that. What did he expect? Why go to Courtney? Courtney fucking hated him. He was a fucking idiot. He should throw himself into the bay for being a fucking idiot.

But if he did that, then he would miss the imaginary person he made up that was going to stop him from jumping. He really could use the company.

He let go of one of the bars to pull out his phone. It would be very easy for him to drop it into the bay, to have it be gone forever, but if God willed it, then it was just so. He went through his contacts of friends and family he never kept in touch with. His thumb hovered over Gwen's name.

He shouldn't.

She'd hate him for it. But it never stopped him from bothering her before. Besides, he'd just send her a simple text, a question that had been bothering him all night and in which she might have a pretty good answer to.

_Would you rather..._ he texted slowly as he was afraid any moment he'd lose his balance and fall in if he wanted to or not. _... jump off a bridge or be shot to death?_

It was a pretty innocent sounding question. She would come up with some snarky reply that he may or may not take seriously, depending on how good the answer was. Though the time was 3:57 in the morning. He shouldn't be surprised if she didn't respond at all, but she hadn't let him down yet.

What he wasn't expecting was the incoming call. Shit. He wasn't ready to use his voice.

But if he didn't answer, then of course Gwen would assume the worst and freak out anyway. He tapped the answer button. "'Whaaaaat?" He cried realizing maybe that was a bit rude but he was too drunk to care.

Instead he was answered with high pitched giggling.

"Who's this?"

"Dad!"

He gave a long, somewhat embarrassed sigh when he realized who actually called him. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" He looked at the time on his phone again quickly. It was now just past four in the morning.

"No!" the voice laughed. " No, Daddy!"

"Hayden. Listen. You have to stop calling me that." Duncan rubbed his face hard.

"Why?"

"Because," he snapped.

"Why?"

Duncan rolled his eyes trying to sound more pleasant to the five year old. "Because Corey doesn't like it."

"Why?"

"Because Corey is like ya dad now, okay? Even though she's a woman. Listen. Just don't. Do you understand?"

"Daddy, I want to play Froggy."

"What?"

"Froggy!"

"I don't know, Bud. I don't know how to play Froggy." He sighed, "Th-that's a game right?"

"Yeah!"

He found himself feeling a little bit better. Though he was too dizzy to try to climb over the fence again. It was also sort of hard to understand Hayden when he was talking fast, especially over the phone, but the tone of his voice changed from whiny to more conversational so he thought that Hayden must have forgotten about figuring out the app for 'Froggy'. "That's great," he replied, pretending he knew what he was saying. "You don't say? Really."

Suddenly a much more easily understood voice came into the background. "Hayden! I told you to put your shoes on 15 minutes ago!" There was some shuffling noises as the phone switched handlers. "Duncan?"

"There's my favorite Gothic queen!" he greeted.

"You're up early..." Her voice changed from wonderment to flat. "You're drunk."

"Why's everyone accusin' me of being drunk tonight?" he slurred into the phone.

"You're never up this early. You must not have gone to bed. _AND _you only ever call me when your drunk!"

"That's not truuue... Gweneth." He knew she hated it when he called her Gweneth. He could just see her rolling her eyes at him. "You are _very_ important to me."

"Yeah, to pick up your drunk ass when you can't walk!" Her voice got farther away. "Corey? Can you take Hayden to school?"

School? He took the phone away from his ear to check the time again. Fuck. He suddenly remembered the time difference in Toronto. If he had been thinking he wouldn't have texted Gwen. Not during the day anyway, when she was sure to be busy. He could still hear her talking to someone else. "I have a phone call! Why does it matter who it is?! Yes. Of _course_ it's Duncan! Your right, he's the only one I raise my voice at."

"She doesn't like me," he said more to himself since it was already quite obvious to anyone that knew them that Corey didn't like him. He grinned like an idiot. There was something wrong with him. Why was he so elated when people hated him.

"Only because you keep calling every time you get drunk! You have to get your shit together, Duncan. We don't have time searching for you every time you decide to stop caring about yourself."

"First of all, _I_ didn't call you. Your _son_ called me."

"Oh shit, he did." Gwen must be looking at her phone now.

"_And_ he called me 'daddy' again."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, so either Corey's gotta get on that sex change-"

"Shut up!"

"-or you have to tell him the truth."

"No, no, no, no! Listen-Oh you sent a text. Ha!" She said quickly to change the subject. "_Would you rather jump off a bridge or be shot to death,_" she read. "Shot to death," she answered.

"What, really?"

"Yeah. Well I guess it all depends. Drowning is basically suffocating in probably freezing cold water. It's got to take a moment for you to actually die. If you're shot, like in the head, you'd be dead instantly. And you know how I just hate, dark, suffocating places." She gave a shudder.

"Hmm," he murmured, now really reconsidering his jumping off the bridge plan. But how was he going to climb back over the fence?!

"Now tell me where you are so I can pick you up. I have time before work."

Duncan twisted around to take another look at the fence. He did somehow get over it after all. "That won't be necessary."

"Where are you? It sounds windy."

He was able to get his feet underneath him and twist around to look for a place to climb up. He should definitely not try to do this one handed, but he was gonna anyway. He turned to see if he could maybe crab-walk until he wasn't over the water anymore. It looked to be a kilometer. "Listen." He paused as he tried to think. "Listen, remember when you told me to get myself away from Cynthia?"

"I thought we should have gotten her arrested."

He started he slow navigation. "Well we both know how well that worked out. And then you told me I should get away."

"I said you should stay low."

"Well now that parole is over, I went on vacation."

"To where? Where are you?"

"And you also told me to stop fucking prostitutes." He haphazardly continued, ignoring her question.

"Yes, I did tell you to stop doing that. Where are you going with this?"

"So I figured, ya know..." He was making progress. Maybe he wouldn't slip and fall to his death. Of course safety still looked a long way ahead. "... I should stop having sex with strangers to piss off Cynthia, because that can't be healthy. Something about my 'fragile emotional mind'? I think that's what you said. Yet _you_ refuse to sleep with me, so..."

"Duncan," Gwen cut him off. "Where the hell are you?"

"But in order to have a meaningful relationship, I gotta know someone, right? Like really know them. But how do you know somebody you just met? You don't! And then you fuck them, and it turns out you still don't know them, and then you're just still fucking a stranger or slash prostitute, and the whole thing just starts all over again. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Sure?"

"I shouldn't _be_ meeting new people!"

"Right! Duncan, you need to work on yourself a little. I know, you've gone through a lot in the past year. I think you've really have changed for the better. You're doing good. It takes some adjusting. But, obviously, there's still some things you have to work through. And I'm not saying _not_ to meet people! You_ should_ meet people. You should get out there, have fun. Nothing serious, nothing fast. But the prostitutes... That needs to stop. And besides, isn't that expensive? I mean they're not potato chips! They are human beings too."

"No, listen Gwen. You don't understand." He felt like he was going to hurl again. He should try to aim for the bay rather than his shoes, but that would involve twisting. "I found her." His voice didn't sound like his. Maybe that was the vomit trying to come back up.

"Who?"

"I found _her,_ and she's _with_ someone_,_" he whined. This was the real reason he felt so sick tonight, but he was trying hard not to think about it. Maybe talking about it to Gwen would help.

"Found who? Cynthia?"

"God, no, Gwen! You're not_ listening_ to me! He's like, fucking good looking _and_ rich."

"What?"

"I don't know. I mean I'm not into dudes, so I don't know how to judge, but he probably has a 12 inch dick or something..." He swallowed the urge to hurl back down and started his trek with new vigor as he went into a rant. "... perfect _hair_ and saves children in Guyana and is a doctor _and _a _billion dollars! _I don't know what I was really hoping for, like her to be fat and unhappy. Well not really, but maybe at least happy to see me, for just once! Just _once_ in my life something nice might happen to me. And then we could just... forget about it forever and I would be okay with it, but I'm not _okay with it_."

"Duncan!" Gwen snapped. "You're not making any sense! And all that wind! Are you _on_ a bridge? Is that what this text is about?!" He could tell her voice was starting to get hysterical. He was worrying her.

"No. No I'm not on a bridge," he lied. He stopped moving, trying to catch his breath without her noticing.

"_Where are you?!_"

"Courtney's gettin' married," he finally said.

"Courtney?"

There was some silence on the other end of the phone. In fact, for a second Duncan thought that maybe they were disconnected.

Then, "Are you in _Vancouver?!_ I _told_ you not to go!"

"Yeah, well that's why I fucking went!" he snapped back at her. He was going to try to jump back over. He had a second wind. He put the phone, still on, in his pocket, and with adrenaline caused by anger he didn't know from where, he hoisted himself back over. He crashed onto his shoulder and hip, aiming for the opposite of his bad leg and the pocket where the phone was. It still hurt and he laid there stunned for a little bit trying to catch his breath. He knew Gwen was still yelling at him. He pulled the phone out of his pocket again, resting it on his cheek so he could maybe sleep there on the cement sidewalk.

He caught the last thing she said "...restraining order! What is wrong with you?!"

"I don't know," he answered. He thought he was ready to fall asleep now.

"What am I supposed to do? Fly across the country to somehow find you?! Do you at _least_ have a place to stay?"

"Yes. I have a place to stay," he said quietly into the phone. Gwen knew him pretty well. More than he would like. But she didn't know everything. God, did she not know. "I'll be home soon. Goodnight. Love ya," and he hung up. It took the last of his strength to move the phone away from his face to tap the end call button. Then he past out.

* * *

Courtney woke up at 4:30 in the morning like any other day. She quickly got dressed, getting ready for her morning workout at the gym that was downstairs. She liked to go at that hour because nobody would be down there to gawk at her, as her body annoyingly jiggled this way and that when she moved. What she wouldn't give to be as slim as a pencil. Then she wouldn't even have to workout.

She was going to wake Duncan up at this ungodly hour because he didn't deserve to sleep in. He wasn't allowed to be in her home while she wasn't. He needed to get his ass out of bed and come up with a plan for his life. It would be too early for him to call the lawyer right now, but that wasn't her problem. She didn't care what he did, as long as he was gone.

She gave the door a quick knock before opening it anyway. "It's time to wake up!" she announced. She didn't realized he wasn't in the bed. She had averted her eyes, as she was a little afraid that he may have slept in the nude, but when she got no responds she saw that he wasn't there. Her pink robe laid across the sheets. She picked it up, holding it to her chest as she also noticed her Lou Pierce referral laid on one of the bed stands. She had a pretty awful feeling that Duncan wasn't planning on calling the defense attorney. In fact, she wasn't sure if she would even see Duncan ever again.

This was a good thing!

She thought this loudly in her head as she slammed around her apartment. She thought it as she ran as hard as she could on the treadmill downstairs, and lifted her arm weights with more vigor than usual. She thought that she was _lucky_ to escape his gaze before something even more happened, as she chugged down her after workout protein shake, giving herself a stomach ache.

It was good that he was gone, but that didn't change the fact that she let what happened last night happen. It couldn't get much worse, now that she was sure she would never see him again. But it still was a breech of trust in her engagement. She wondered if she should tell Charlie, if telling him about it would restore the lost trust that such an incident could lead to. It wasn't like she had asked for it to happen. In fact, she had threatened Duncan! It had been unwanted! She could claim it as rape if she tried hard enough.

But she could have done more to stop it. She could have buried the nail of her bat deep within his brain. She could have voiced him to stop, pushed him away. But she hadn't because she hadn't wanted to at the time.

She slept like the fucking dead right after, completely guiltless. She hadn't had that good of a sleep in a very long time, but now that she was awake her head was not letting the thoughts and feelings go. How could she have let this happen?!

It wasn't cheating, she told herself. It wasn't really _actually _sex, right? It wasn't actual intercourse. There was no penis penetration. In a weird, messed up way, Duncan probably thought he had been doing her a favor. He probably _was_ just trying to thank her and was too fucked up to realize it was inappropriate.

Who was she kidding? Duncan damn well knew it was inappropriate. He just didn't care. He never did.

Still siding with the notion that it wasn't cheating (she was lying to herself, really) she decided not to tell Charlie about it. There had been times when she had had an ex-boyfriend try to reach out to her when she was in another relationship in the past. She never informed her partner at the time, as she was able to deny the ex-lover's attempts effectively on her own. That was basically what this was!

No, it wasn't cheating. She would not associate with Duncan anymore.

Her marriage could have been at stake. Hell, her entire life could have been at stake! Whatever shit Duncan was going through it was sure as hell dangerous. Who's to say what were to happen if she remained in his presence.

She tried to console herself as she finished getting ready for work. She was safe from him now. But _he_ wasn't safe. She went through her morning routine, shower, dress, make up, on auto pilot. She paused after she climbed into her car. If she never saw him again she would never know if he was alive or dead. Why did she care? Why was his life on her conscious? Before starting her route to work she found herself thumbing through her contacts on her car's dash. She had never changed her phone number. If she didn't physically delete a phone number from her contacts, the data would have transferred to whatever new device she had.

He was still there, labeled as "Don't You Fucking Dare". She couldn't remember why she hadn't deleted it when they had broken up. She couldn't think of a reason why to keep it. Deleting it all together would have taken the temptation away to text or call him all those years ago rather than just changing his contact name. Maybe she had kept it to test her resolve. She tapped the button.

"_The number you have reached has been-"_ She hung up, upset with herself. Obviously Duncan had changed his number. There was no way for her to reach him now. She didn't want to reach him. She would not think about this anymore! She continued onward.

She drove her car to her usual drive-through, still trying not to think about Duncan. It took a moment for the intercom to greet her, which was unusual since it was too early for it to be busy, but she didn't notice, as _she was still thinking about Duncan._

He had been quite drunk last night. He could hardly be accountable for his actions. And she did have three glasses of wine herself. Maybe she could blame it on that, not that three glasses of wine at night had ever temped her to do anything unbecoming before. And three glasses of wine last night shouldn't be affected her at this very moment, but now she couldn't help imagine his prickly whiskers on the very most inside of her thigh. And his hot wet breath. She squirmed in her seat. Her left hand was resting on her thigh, and she felt her fingers stroke herself slightly.

No! What was she thinking? How indecent! She was out in public!

She bit her bottom lip. She was trying very hard not to allow her mind to wander this morning. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with someone, and even though last night she had been able to get off, she couldn't help wonder what more with Duncan would be like. They had slept together when they had been dating, but that had been so long ago. She could hardly remember. It couldn't have been that great if she could hardly remember, right? The thought shouldn't be enticing her so much.

Why was she feeling this way?! She rubbed her thighs together, like that was going to relieve her impending frustration. She should have thought of taken care of herself before she left for work. This was going to annoy her all day. But then there wouldn't have been time for her to get her coffee. Her coffee was important. Speaking of which, why wasn't anyone serving her?!

"Hello?!" she called out. Her face blushing as if someone could have possibly heard her past thoughts.

"Oh. Oh! I'm sorry! How can I help you?"

It wasn't a voice she recognized, which meant that this person was new and didn't know her usual. She sighed. "One 24 ounce mocha mint dry cappuccino with coconut milk."

"Uh. The cappuccinos don't come in flavors. Only the lattes do."

"What do you mean?! What the difference? Just put the flavor in!"

"I wouldn't know how to charge that ma'am. There isn't a button for that."

"How _dare _you-I've been getting the same thing every morning, for over a year! How do you not know how to charge me?"

"Um, well, I could add a flavored coffee to it, but that would be another buck fifty for each flavor, so an additional three dollars."

"For flavor? That's insane. I've always paid 3.15 for the entire drink."

"No, that doesn't make sense. I don't see how you can get that total with your order."

"This is ridiculous! I'm a loyal customer! The only reason why I come to this shabby coffee house instead of Starbucks is because you're open early enough. I want to speak to you manager."

"Uh, she doesn't come in this early, but I can give you a number for complaints."

"Yes. Give it to me."

"Will you be ordering any coffee?"

"Give me the fucking latte then!"

She walked into her firm at 6 am, angry. Once in the office she paged her secretary to come in. Her secretary liked to come into work early as well, one of the reasons why Courtney had still kept her around. She would have been fired long ago otherwise.

"Miss Barlow, wh-what can I do for you?" her secretary stuttered. She wasn't usually called into Courtney's office and she must have known something was up. Courtney was momentarily distracted as it looked like someone had left her some documents on her desk. She was flipping through them quickly while sipping her coffee when she realized her secretary had arrived.

"Oh right, Stacy..." She looked up at her. "You're fired. Sorry." She smiled apologetically at her before sitting down and pulling out her laptop to put in an ad for a new secretary.

"W-w-what? Why?"

"It's just not working out, Stacy," she said, filling out the ad on her computer. "Was just not a good fit."

"But I've been trying so hard! I'm sorry I forgot to restock the toilet paper for the office bathroom that one time. I swear it will never happen again."

Courtney shook her head. "It's not about the toilet paper."

"Well what is it?! I will do _anything!_" Stacy said rather dramatically. She was holding up her pen in her declaration and for an alarming second, Courtney thought she might stab herself in the heart with it.

Courtney stared at her for a moment. She wasn't in the mood to call the police so early in the morning if their was an attempted suicide. Afternoon, _maybe_. And it wasn't really like she could tell the women the reason she wanted to fire her was because _some how_ her crazy criminal ex-boyfriend found her across the county and got himself onto her schedule yesterday. "Well, okay..." she said, closing out of the job listing site. "I'm going to need you to put in a complaint for Woods Coffee about an employee who works at 5:45 in the morning and doesn't know how to do his job!"

"Woods Coffee? I love that place! They have-" She closed her mouth once she saw Courtney's glare. "Yes. I will get on that right away."

It was going against her better judgement but maybe she could use Stacey for a favor in the future. She wasn't going to pass an opportunity of someone else being desperate for her. "You can go now," she said when she realized that Stacey was still standing there looking at her anxiously.

She read over the new documents before filing them away in their appropriate homes. She was at peace for maybe about a half an hour before Stacey paged her.

"Miss Barlow, your mother is on line one."

She paused for a moment, then quickly checked her cell phone to make sure she hadn't missed any calls. She slammed her hand on the page button "_What?_"

"Y-your mother?"

"Did you tell her I was in?!"

Her door opened and her secretary poked her head into the office again. "Was I not supposed to? I didn't know!"

"FUCK!"

"I'll tell her I was mistaken!"

"It's too late now!" She took a calming breath before picking up the office phone. She was not ready for this so early in the morning. Even if she had been up for hours already. "Hello?"

"Courtney! Darling! Are you at work?" Obviously as they were speaking through her office number. Courtney wasn't quite sure how to respond to such a stupid question so she was silent. "Remember what the therapist said," her mother said chidingly.

"Mom. When I agreed to not work _one_ day of the week-"

"Which was Wednesday. That's today."

"I know Daddy has explained to you that I have no control over when court cases will be scheduled."

"So I suggested Sundays."

"You know Sundays are Charlie's charity days. I can't _not_ contribute."

"And Saturdays."

"I don't have time to finish my work in the week! Like today! I have to find myself a _new __secretary_," she said icily when she noticed that Stacey was indeed still standing there. She left with a flutter of her wrists.

"So you are allowed to finish up work that couldn't be done in the week on Saturdays to allow you to have that break mid week on Wednesdays. Is there any court cases today?"

"No," she answered grudgingly.

"So it is your day off! If you don't take any days off then you won't have any time for yourself. You need this time, Courtney, to finish planning your wedding. This is why your dress came in a size too small. If you had been present when we needed you this mistake would have never happened! Have you measured your waist recently? I don't think you are going to get yourself small enough in time for the wedding at this rate. I still have no idea what we're going to do with your breasts without you looking like a Las Vegas whore. Losing some weight may help some but we don't know that for sure."

At the beginning of the phone call, Courtney briefly thought about hanging up on her mother. She couldn't put her on speaker phone to allow herself to continue working with Stacey hanging around and her mother shooting her mouth off. But if she ignored her mother, their delicate relationship would just snowball until it wasn't manageable anymore. Small amounts. She could handle her in small amounts. She currently cradled the phone in her shoulder as she typed away on her laptop, trying hard not to listen to what her mother was actually saying.

"And I'll be damned if you get another forehead wrinkle on your wedding day because you wouldn't give yourself one day off a week to relax! And alcohol is not an alternative to relaxing! It also gives you wrinkles and next thing you know, will have to be sending you off to AA. We don't need another episode like what happened at your cousin's baby shower."

"Mom, I wasn't drunk then."

"So you say. Well you were something. Were you even _on _your meds? And don't tell me you weren't drinking! I saw you sipping on that champagne like it was life support!"

She didn't mention that it was her mother that drove her to drink. Instead she said. "Well maybe someone needs to inform _Suzy _how down syndrome works! _I'm _the one engaged to a doctor!"

"We know that dear, but you have to actually get married now and for that I need you to put more effort into this wedding. You still haven't given me an answer if we are going with Champagne or Ivory for the table clothes!"

"Champagne!"

"Great. Now you take the rest of the day off."

"I have a meeting at 9:00."

"And we will have lunch, but not too early. I have a skin appointment so let's make it a late meal. 3:00? Good. Love you, Darling." She rolled her eyes as her mother hung up. She knew telling her mother anything with what was talked about at her therapy sessions would be a mistake. They were supposed to be confidential after all. She had only told her mother about taking a day off during the week because her mother had kept asking her what steps she was taking to improve herself. It was unfortunate that her mother had witnessed her almost murder her cousin at the baby shower. Suzy was a dimwit with too many children. Why hadn't she suggested one day off a month instead? That seemed more feasible with her work load, but even that she was finding hard. Talking off half a day once a month was closer to what she had been doing since it was talked about at her therapy sessions.

She went back to work to try to get as much done as she could before her meeting. Then she would go home to do "nothing" as her mother wished, just long enough for her to confirm to her mother that she did so. Besides, doing "nothing" could be done as easily in a few minutes. Her mother didn't need to know how long it was. In fact, she should go over it with her therapists. Even half a day was unpractical. Half an hour sounded much more reasonable.

* * *

Duncan woke up on the street to the sound of joggers and walkers going by him without a glance.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" he groaned. He only got one head turned at him to the sound, a mother quickly tolling her child away from him. Where the fuck was he? He pushed himself up into a sitting position, swearing more perversely when he put weight on his wounded leg. Why wasn't he dead yet? At this rate he was going to get arrested for loitering and then go to prison. Thank God there were no police around. He shifted his position to pull his wallet out of his back pocket as it was unusually fat with how much money was in it. Shit. He was lucky he hadn't been robbed in his sleep. Why was he carrying so much cash? What was he thinking? Why hadn't he spent it all last night? That was the real question.

He saw that he had several missed calls from Gwen. He quickly texted her to assure her he was alright. Then he painfully pushed himself up, preparing his body to travel so he could find a public bathroom, lighting himself a cigarette to help him go along. The smoke he breathed out burned his sore throat but it lessened the throbbing in his brain.

People stared at him as he trudged down the sidewalk, him probably looking as bad as he felt and he felt pretty damn bad. He rather them give him a wide berth. He was used to this, prison, the streets, his own family sometimes, always staring at him. He both depended and cursed the extra space. He never seemed to be where he belonged. He glared at a couple of kids, not in the mood to hear their high pitched voices.

He found a Shoppers Drug Mart. As he practically fell into its doors he rasped to the guy at the cashier, "You got a bathroom?"

"For customers," the man said tentatively as he was sure that a demon had just emerged from Hell to stumble into his store.

Duncan grabbed a clean shirt, a bag, a bottle of water and an energy drink, and threw them on the counter. "You got, like Tylenol or something?"

"Rough night, huh?"

Duncan didn't respond. He had to get his shit together. His brain was still fumbling around to try to come up with a plan that didn't involve bridge jumping, getting shot at, or spending the rest of his life in prison. It seemed daunting. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He was always tired. It was like his mind couldn't keep up with the world anymore. He used be such a quick thinker.

As the cashier was getting the pain killers for him his eyes rested on a small TV that was in the corner of the store. It was playing the news, muted, with subtitles flashing at the bottom of the screen. He only had looked up at it by chance, but his eyes widened when he realized his picture was on the screen, with big giant words of "Man Wanted". Thankfully it was his prison picture so he looked quite a bit different. No piercings or jewelry as he wasn't allowed to have those things in the joint. His hair was also black and longer as he hadn't had dye and rarely had the energy to cut it back then. Still he silently prayed that the cashier would not turn around and see. He slapped down a hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change," he choked without much voice as he grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom, already looking suspicious.

His heart was beating into his face and he nearly past out once he shut the bathroom door. He stared at the closed door, waiting for the cashier, someone, to come knocking on it, tell him that they knew, that the police were coming. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, scared shitless. If he had been younger, much younger, this would have given him a thrill. What the fuck was wrong with him back then? He gave himself a slap. _Get it together! _He needed to figure this shit out. The first step was to look like a decent member of society so he wasn't attracting more suspicion. He took off his shirt and gave himself a quick sink bath. After washing his pits and his face he even put some liquid soap onto his tongue to swish around because he couldn't stand the taste of his own mouth. This he then regretted as he wasn't quite sure which had tasted worse.

After he had cleaned up, he left the Shoppers Drug Mart quickly. He was going to get his life back in order. That had been his intention from the beginning. Of course he was going to have set backs. Life wasn't going to just be handed to him on a silver platter. He hadn't deserved that. He hadn't expected all of this to happen to him all the same God damn time, but he had been through worse. He wasn't going to give up, and not giving up meant going back to Courtney. He simply just had to convince her to be his lawyer. Courtney wouldn't lose. Courtney wouldn't tell him to plead guilty just because it was easier. No way in hell was he ever going to take the blame for this mother fucking bullshit. He wasn't done with her yet. He still had some tricks up his sleeve.

Guilt hadn't worked for him in getting Courtney to agree to be his lawyer. He didn't really expect it too. He had been kind of horrible to her in the past, and Courtney wasn't the type of person that admitted to doing wrong herself. No, guilting her into feeling sorry for him wouldn't work. He knew better. Plan B: Bribery.

Courtney didn't love much more than money. He had witnessed her do quite a number of questionable things towards her character just for the green. That unbridled, unapologetic greed was what had sparked his interest in her in the first place, once he saw underneath all her fake polite sweetness. That girl knew what she wanted, and if Courtney would be his lawyer for the money, he would give her every cent he had to his name.

He was too paranoid to go to the bank now. Now, that his God damn name was going around the local news, he did not want to hand over his ID over to a bank receptionist. He had quite a bit of cash still on him. He didn't really remember what he had plan on doing with it last night. He hadn't spent too much of it at the bars. With his older age it didn't take much to get him intoxicated now. (Not that he would admit to it) That went without mentioning that he had also lost probably a gallon of blood making the road to drunkenness just the more quicker. What was he going to do with it? Buy drugs? Get a hooker? Give it all to charity before offing himself? He had just under 2K on him. That was way more to offer upfront to a simple criminal defense attorney, but Courtney was a medical lawyer and probably was used to a much higher paycheck. How much that was he wasn't sure, but being given 2K cash upfront was a decent deal to anyone.

Fortunately he hadn't wandered too far off from Courtney's apartment. He was a wounded cripple after all. It was late morning now. He was probably in a coma on that sidewalk for a good chunk of the morning with the people walking around him. Knowing Courtney she would be at work at this time.

Before leaving last night Duncan had slipped a piece of tape over the latch of Courtney's apartment door, hating the idea that he could be locked away from her forever. She had already locked him out of her bedroom. _The gall, right?!_ He had stuck the tape there as more of a _fuck you _then with actual intent of breaking in. He hadn't actually planned on coming back, ever, as there had been the bridge plan at the back of his drunken mind, but now he was glad he thought to do it. Now sober and with a clear head, Courtney, he knew was the only thing that could save him. He was fairly confident that the tape would still be there without Courtney noticing. He would simply sneak back into her apartment and wait for her to come back.

He entered the lobby, same man still at the reception desk as before. He continued onward unperturbed, gripping the handle of the glass doors that led to the elevator. Giving it a tug, he realized the doors were locked. They had been opened when he had first came with Courtney. He started pulling on the door a little more out of frustration when he hadn't calculated this in his inebriated stupor.

The lobby man cast a glance at him because of the commotion. "Uh..." Duncan stopped yanking on the door. "I guess I'll go _wait_ for my_ cousin_ then..." The lobby man gave him a look that said he agreed, and Duncan left the lobby cursing every square from the checkered pattern on the floor that he past. He went back outside. Now what did he do? Turn himself in? Would that make him look better if he voluntarily turned himself in!? The old Duncan would have shot himself for even thinking the thought, but the real reason why he didn't march his ass to the first police station he found was that he was pretty sure that that would be it for him. He didn't trust the legal system to prove his innocents. It never worked for him before, though his father would have disagreed. His father would have told him he deserved those ten years, that he was lucky to be given the time. His father would be happy if he was locked up for the rest of his life, which at this rate, looked like was going to happen.

He hadn't walked far from the apartment building's main door, still in a daze that he was quite utterly fucked, when he realized that the high, white fence next to him was attached to the complex. Looking through the very thin cracks between the panels, it appeared that it housed off a swimming pool. A swimming pool who must only be available to people who lived at the complex, and therefore had keys, and also therefore, the people in the area must have already keyed in. At least it seemed to be pretty solid logic. There were sure to be security cameras, and sure enough he spotted a few above the fence. Duncan had worked with his fair share of security cameras in the past and had a pretty good idea what area one would cover. He just needed the nudge one a smidge to create a blind spot, and with one well calculated pebble throw, he had an in. It took less time to alter the camera then it did to wait for no passerbyers to be around. He waited until there was no one in several meters before his launched over the fence. The fence was seven feet tall and there wasn't much for him to grip after making the leap. He made himself catch the top though, because if he didn't, he'd be dead. It gave him the adrenaline for the required air. His arms barely gave him the strength to pull him to the top, and he thanked God that he kept up the working out habit he started in prison. He hung for what felt like an extremely long time as he willed his biceps to pull him over the top. He couldn't waste time as any second, someone could see him.

He somehow did land on his feet on the other side, pins and needles traveling up his legs on the dismount, his one leg threatening to explode. He had wholeheartedly believed that no one would see him _inside_ the pool area, as it was early in the day and in the middle of the week. Outside, sure, but once inside the rest should have been a walk in the park.

His heart dropped when he realized he was wrong. Someone was indeed using the pool area at this hour, laying on a lounge chair right in front of him. And that person was Courtney herself.

He had nearly landed on her.

This was it. This was where it ended for him.

But after staring at her still, sunglass clad, black bikini body in terror for what seemed like half an hour, (it may have only been 30 seconds) he realized that it was very possible that she was fast asleep. He took a quick breath before waving his hand once over her face just to be sure. She must have felt the sunlight being blocked from his arm because she began to stir, and cursing under his breath he quickly hid behind one of the many shrubs that was around the place.

Courtney gave a small sigh, pushing herself up into a sitting position before stretching her arms above her head. After her stretch she reached down to where a martini glass sat on the concrete next to her lounge chair. She lifted her sunglasses just a centimeter to peer down at the empty glass that looked like it once had something involving chocolate syrup prior.

"Fuck," she murmured quietly once confirming that the glass was in fact empty. Then she pushed herself to a stand.

When Duncan's gaze had first fallen on her sleeping form, he had been in too much of a panic to really appreciate what she had been wearing, but now that she was standing and he was getting a good look of her from the back, he thought he may have lost a few brain cells from ogling at her.

Courtney had by far been the hottest girlfriend he had ever had, straight ten out of ten, but her sense of dress had always been on the more conservative side. He had certainly seen her in a swimsuit when they were teenagers, but her choice of swimwear back then was more athletic and practical. She had always been practical about every decision she made. The bikini she had chosen to wear today at this particular hour however looked like it had just enough purpose to be ripped off from the first gentle wave that ever had the grace to touch it. The outfit had been small from the front, but in the back, the thin string of fabric completely disappeared into the round, perfect mounds of what was Courtney's glorious rear end.

"Sweet Jesus." He couldn't help the whisper fall out of his mouth, luckily Courtney not hearing it as she was doing another stretch, curving her back with a pop.

He remembered Courtney always had a nice ass, but his memory must have failed somewhat because he couldn't recall it being this perfect before. She was absolutely eating that bathing suit. What he wouldn't give to _be_ the bottom portion of that bikini.

The four inch stilettos she was wearing (which no one had the right to wear to a pool. The straps alone would take a minute to undo) were situating her backside even more nicely than usual and as she took the first graceful step he had to suppress a whine. He felt like he was watching her in slow motion. The strike of her sharp heel sent a quiver up her healthy sized thigh and commoved her derriere in such an erotic way that he thought he felt the vibration go straight to his groin. The two bow strings on either side of her wide hips were having seizures themselves with each step, screaming to be undone. Duncan thought if he stared hard enough, he may grant them their wish. They were just dying to be pulled.

As she was walking away, he quickly looked around. No one else was in the pool area. Who was she trying to show off to? She was headed to a small bar. The bartender looked like he was barely 18 as he too seemed to be distracted by her appearance, dropping a glass at her approach. Duncan didn't think the outfit was for the bartender though. Courtney wouldn't go after such easy prey. Was she meeting someone here? He found it odd that she was here rather than at work. It was the middle of the week and not even quite noon yet. He wondered if she should even be drinking at this hour.

Courtney was now leaning against the bar counter, presumably ordering another drink. Her ass at the moment was shamelessly pointed in his direction for the world to observed, not that she had any perception that anyone was watching her besides the empty poolside. He strained his eyes to see, but she was too far away now to see any detail of what were clearly the gates to Heaven. Or Hell. Or maybe it was both. With her bent over like that, that thin little string couldn't possibly be covering anything, could it?

He had to get out of here before Courtney spotted him and called the cops for trespassing. He wasn't prepared to meet up with her at present and he wasn't going to be able to sweet talk himself out of anything if she confronted him in _that._ He hurried to the doors that led to the building and luckily they opened without hassle. _Thank God. _He then navigated his way back to Courtney's apartment. Her door opened to his touch easily and he congratulated himself for being a genius. Making himself at home, he organized his cash on Courtney's coffee table so that it was easily countable and she could see right away that he was serious.

Then he sat back on one of the plush chairs and anticipated for her return. His stomach growled as he waited. He eyed Courtney's kitchen for a second, but he felt kind of bad rummaging through it to look for some grub. He had stolen her wine last night without a problem, but he had been kind of mad at her then. Why had he been angry? It wasn't because she had refused to be his lawyer. No that had been expected. He tried to recall the events of last night, and could briefly remember the look of desire in her eyes. He turned his head to the picture on the wall. "That's right, it's your fault!" he pointed to the photograph. There was something wrong with that guy. He didn't have any proof, but something had to be if Courtney wasn't getting the attention she needed, which was obvious with her running practically naked outside. She must be having an affair. Probably with a whole list of people. That was why it had been so easy for him last night to get under her clothes. The old Courtney would have _never _condemned to such a heinous crime. Him on the other hand, the behavior was expected. She should have driven that ten inch nail to his head last night but she didn't, which meant something was going on with hubby. He had narrowed it down to the man either being a homosexual or a secret pedophile.

The door opened and Duncan quickly swallowed down his excitement, slash bile and tried to remind himself that he had the element of surprise and therefore the upper hand. Courtney had since wrapped herself in a silk black robe that could have been see-through at parts, but the excess of fabric made it too hard to see what she had on beneath. It didn't matter to Duncan because he knew what was there anyway. She had yet to notice him as she bent down to unstrap her strapy shoes. Yep, it was taking her about a minute, but Duncan wasn't minding as it gave him a good view of her cleavage that was threatening to spill over the top of her bathing suite. It wasn't until she straightened, took off her sunglasses and walked several more meters into the apartment that she noticed him.

The scream that followed had really made everything else worth it. She clutched her see-through robe and fell against the wall of the hall. Duncan had to suppressed his laugh, muffling it down to a few amused chuckles.

"_YOU!_" she screeched. "HOW DID YOU GET _IN_ HERE?! WHY AREN'T YOU ARRESTED?!"

"Let's just say, I'm _very_ good at climbing _over_ things."

She glared at him once at what he was implying before marching over to the large windows. "Did you climb up here?!" She started to fuss over the windows. "How is that possible?!" She then turned around as she saw the money that was on the table. "What is this?!"

"2K," he answered. "You never did say what your upfront fee was."

She was at a loss for words for a moment, her arms tight around herself as if that would be a substitute for the clothes that she lacked wearing. "I am _not_ going to be your lawyer!"

"Ge'ez, you want more money? I can get you more money."

"No Duncan. No amount of money will _ever_ have me agree to be your lawyer."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because _we_" she pointed frantically to the both of them, "can_not_ work with each other, _EVER_!"

"Oh, I see. Because of what happened last night," he said lazily, pulling out his phone. "Because I'm just too incredibly irresistible, you won't be able to actually concentrate on the case."

"_No! _I'm not letting you _sabotage_ my future MARRIAGE!"

"It's a little late for that, isn't it honey? Or do I need to remind you what happened last night, in _great_ detail?"

"No! No." She calmed down a little bit. "It's over. "

"Well," Duncan finished finding what he was looking for on his phone. The money didn't work so he had to go to his last resort. It was a low blow but he was running out of options. He pulled up Doctor Charles Worthernton's contact page. It really had been _so _easy to find the man's phone number on the hospital's website. Stalking Courtney on the internet was child's play, like she wanted him to find all this information. "Let's see what Doc Chuck thinks of all of this."

"No!" Courtney's eyes went wide and she lifted a hand as if to make a grab for his phone.

"Agree to be my lawyer and I won't tell him."

Courtney swallowed down her panic with what looked like was a much rehearsed act as she rearranged her face into not caring. "Fine. I already told him."

"You already told him," Duncan asked in disbelief. He still knew nothing about this guy so he wasn't so sure if he could harp on what seemed like such a lie.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Besides, it wasn't cheating."

Duncan laughed. "It wasn't cheating?! How was that _not_ cheating?"

"We did not have sex," she said simply with her nose in the air.

"We didn't have sex," he repeated incredulously. "That wasn't oral sex?"

Courtney's argument seemed to waver for only a moment before she said. "There was no penis penetration!"

"Even though," Duncan's voice was getting louder now, "you came all over my face!?"

"PROVE IT!" she shrieked.

Duncan bit his bottom lip, as if he could still taste her there, and possibly bring some sort of evidence to the argument. Courtney was watching his mouth as he did it. "So, by your 'definition' of cheating," he air quoted, "does that include... talking to your ex-boyfriend?"

"Of course not!"

"Flirting?"

"I have _not_ been flirting!"

"You're wearing practically nothing in public!"

Courtney looked down at herself for a moment, evidently forgetting that she was still in her swim ware. "I'm in a bathing suit," she said, "and I was at a personal pool that's restricted from the public! How _dare_ you-"

"what about a BJ?" he interrupted her. "Is that sex?" He shrugged. "Is that cheating?"

"That would _NEVER _happen! That would be _penetration!_"

"Just checkin'. You know, by your 'definition,' I don't see why you dumped _me_ for 'cheating'. I didn't start fucking Gwen until we were officially split." He pushed himself to a stand, because Courtney's eyes had gotten darker than usual and he thought he may need his legs to leap away from her if she started to attack.

"_You_," she said in an unnatural deep voice which then turned to a pitchy screech. "_KISSED_ HER!"

"Ah," Duncan said not looking at her and putting a hand to his chin. "So _that's_ considered cheating!"

"_That's_ considered cheating because it's way more than just sexual. You can have _sex _with random strangers because biologically we need to do something with this overwhelming need to reproduce! We do it to get _off_, but kissing, that's a display of affection! We kiss people we care about like, family member and people we have emotional connections with. We kiss people we fucking _love_!"

Did she just use the L word? He rolled his eyes. "Oh my fucking God." She couldn't ever say that when they were together? _He_ had said it about a fucking thousand times. He was pretty sure Courtney had never loved anyone other than herself anyway.

He wasn't sure which part set him over the edge. It could have been her voice and how her wails were making his hangover worse. It could have been _what_ she was saying and how all of it was bullshit. Or it could have been that she had done her face up in makeup, to go to a pool, that she obviously had no intention to swim in, but wore that abomination of a swimsuit anyway. Whatever it was, it was making him furious.

"Well maybe if you weren't such a boring ass, controlling bitch, I wouldn't feel like kissing someone else!"

She screamed, slapping him hard in the face. "Ow! Fuck!" For some reason the open handed slap hurt more than the punch she had given him yesterday. "Stop _hitting_ me! I swear to God if you do that one mor-" She slapped him with the other hand.

He shouted back at her, the volume of which almost matched her own scream before it ended in a rumbling growl. For a millisecond Courtney didn't know if she should flight or fight. Her hands came up into fists for what seemed to be for fight, but it was too late then, as Duncan had already grabbed her by the shoulders so she couldn't escape him.

Then he viciously kissed her.

She responded with a muffled cry, fists pounding on his chest to get him to let go of her. Her dark brown lipstick appeared to be chocolate flavored, which just pissed Duncan off more as he deliberately tried to smudge it around to ruin her god damn perfect face!

This was more like sexual assault than last night, and Duncan knew now that there was no chance of him escaping prison, but Courtney was more likely to kill him with her bare hands than actually take him to court. He would make sure of it.

He grabbed onto her head so that she couldn't turn away from him anymore, prying her lips open with his tongue and teeth. He tasted the vodka from her martini in her mouth, Courtney still crying intelligible words indigently. He didn't know what he expected to happen after that. Maybe for Courtney to bite off his tongue. Then while he was trying to keep from bleeding to death she would bash him in the head with one of her four inch stilettos. What he hadn't expected was for her to kiss him back.

Her tongue was moving against his fiercely, which he had assumed was her attempt to push his out of her mouth. Her's was a lot stronger than he expected (she did use it to talk a lot) and though he tried to dominate her through his kiss, he quickly realized that it was a losing battle. She had trapped his tongue piercing behind her teeth and he gave a whine when he couldn't pull it back. Courtney was going to murder him in a far different way than he anticipated.

When she released him, the both of them had only had time to gasp in half a second of breath before she was on him again, devouring his face, her sharp nails now digging into his hair. He was pretty sure that his mouth must have tasted like ass as he only sort of swished it with hand soup earlier, but it didn't seem like Courtney cared.

Fuck he missed her.

Fuck he loved her. He still loved her.

Courtney was ranking her nails over his body, biting his lips savagely, but his hands couldn't do anything. His knees were growing weaker by the second and he wasn't sure if it was from his injury, her pulling on him or if he was just breathless. They were falling. One of his hands let go of her to break the fall, though he still hadn't opened his eyes and he wasn't going to stop kissing her. Courtney hit the couch first, hanging off of Duncan's shirt, then the both of them slid down, Duncan's back hitting the floor with Courtney on top of him.

He looked up at his soon to be murderer, her face ferocious. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" she screamed. He was looking alright.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed his head onto the floor, which did absolutely wonders for his headache. Then she begin to beat at him, switching back and forth from slaps and punches, too angry to think straight. He had put his arms up instinctively. Her arms were hitting his hard ulna bones, making her swear more profusely as it must have hurt her more than it hurt him. Then she grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and began wailing it against him. This of course did not cause him any physical pain, but he was still too bewildered to do anything about it.

Courtney calmed down just enough to realize that her weapon wasn't effectively causing harm, so she pressed the pillow to his face, pushing it down with her knees. "YOU CAN'T SAY ANYTHING IF YOU'RE DEAD!"

His left arm had been stuck under the pillow, and with Courtney's weight on it, he didn't have good leverage to throw her off. His right arm had made it free though, and with the lack of air he was now receiving, it whipped around in a panic. It slammed against the wooden leg of the couch and the pain focused him. Instead of using his free arm to shove Courtney off, he grabbed the couch leg and squeezed it. If anyone had any right to kill him, it was Courtney. He really should give her the honors.

As the seconds went by, he realized that she really wasn't joking. Courtney really hated him so much that she would _murder_ him right in her apartment living room. He never really thought she had it in her. He was both shocked and slightly turned on by it.

Then Courtney's phone when off.

"God_damn_ it!" She got off of him, and stomped over to the kitchen where she had left her phone on the island. She snatched it up and hurriedly went up stairs leaving Duncan disappointed on the ground.

Courtney pounded up the stairs as she tapped 'accept' on her phone. "What?!"

"Are you working?" her mother accused.

"No, mother." She turned into her bedroom. "I'm home. I went to the _pool._ I had a _drink._ I'm _relaxing!_"

"A drink? Courtney, it's only 11:53 in the morning."

"The bar opens at ten, so that must mean people want to be drinking then!" She almost hung up on her mother. She was busy after all, but now that she was separated from Duncan, her brain was starting to work better. She was calming down now. She went into her bathroom, putting her mother on speaker so that she could change into her clothes. She noticed her lipstick smudged in the mirror and starting rubbing at it with water from the sink.

"Courtney, you don't sound relaxed. What is troubling you?"

"Oh! It's nothing," she said, ripping off her swim suite and started pulling on her clothes. "There was just a mammal like _rodent_ creature, that somehow got into my apartment," she spat.

"Oh dear! How did that happen? You should call maintenance! That is not acceptable."

Courtney pulled on her socks last and then turned her phone off speaker as she marched out of the bathroom "I don't know Mommy. Let me go check. It might be dead."

She stomped down the stairs, Duncan still laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling like a moron. She gave him a kick in the head. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, coming back to life.

"Nope, still alive." She went back upstairs. "I'm going to need to call the exterminator. I might not make it to lunch. I'll let you know later, okay?"

"Alright dear. Be careful. It could have rabies!"

"Oh Mother, I will." After hanging up with her mom she headed to her office. There was just one thing for her to do now, as killing Duncan, obviously, was too extreme and would have too many consequences. He knew now. He knew that she was sexually attracted to him, and had little self control about it. She wanted him to die, but she also wanted to rip off all his clothes. She couldn't hide or deny it and he had all of the power.

She pulled out several large college text books about criminal law from her many bookshelves and let them slam onto her table that was in the middle of the room. She was going to have to brush up on the subject. She wasn't ready for this. She wouldn't have to do this if she wasn't being _blackmailed!_

_"DUNCAN!" _ she screeched. He probably wouldn't beck to her call after he had witnessed her every intention to kill him, but she didn't care. She woke up her laptop and went to the desktop folders of paperwork that Duncan was going to have to sign. They were printing when Duncan showed his dazed, confused face in the doorway. "Sit the fuck down!" She motioned to the chair across from the table. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. There must be a way out of it. _Think Courtney! _She was smarter than this. She was smarter than Duncan. But she was doing it anyway. Her body was on complete autopilot as she printed out all the necessary forms and then brought them over to Duncan, a pen ready. "Sign," she ordered. Duncan did so, without reading the paperwork. It could have easily been a statement saying anything, but Duncan didn't care. But then again, what did Duncan have to lose? Nothing apparently. She could lose everything.

She rearranged everything on the table so it was orderly as she waited for Duncan to finish signing. "You are to mention nothing of what happened a few minutes ago, to _any_body! Is that clear?"

"As clear as day," he replied with a grin.

Then she sat on the chair across from him, lacing her fingers together as she tried to proceed in a calm, professional manner. Duncan was still looking at the paper work like he wasn't comprehending what he had just signed. "Okay," she said taking a deep breath, before looking Duncan straight in the eye. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he answered immediately.

Courtney pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose as she tried to contain the building frustration. She would not lose her cool again. "What are you being _accused_ of?" she re-asked.

Courtney had never been known for her patience but she recognized this flaw in her never ending undertaking to be a better person, and tried her absolute best to work on it. Now was the time to be patient if there ever was one. Yelling at Duncan wasn't going to get him to talk faster, so she simply sat and stared back at him, waiting for him to trust her. It could be a while. The two of them had never trusted each other.

He was looking at her so pathetically. She tried to think of him as one of her other clients, her face pleasant and poised.

Duncan broke eye contact and started looking around the room.

Courtney absently looked at the clock, still trying her hardest to be patient.

He took a breath before finally answering, "Murder."


End file.
